


Just to Be

by Amarti



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Drug Use, EWE, Extremely minor Cursed Child spoiler in the chapter 9 endnotes, F/M, Homelessness, Human Trafficking, Mature!Ron, Mentions of past drug use, PTSD, Politics, Post-War, Sexual Slavery, but they will live happily ever after, inception-style legilimency, luna you nuts but I love you, mentions of past alcohol abuse, patronus theories, regifting, severus and his foibles, trigger warnings for just about everything you can imagine including but not limited to, type A personalities, well mostly happily ever after
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-07-15 04:33:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 30
Words: 173,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7207934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amarti/pseuds/Amarti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Six years after the war, Hermione discovers a neglected and abused population with no place in a post-Voldemort world, and the man who stayed behind to pick up the pieces. A story of reconciliation, redemption, and above all, love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Forgotten

**Author's Note:**

> I first published this story several years ago on FFN. This seems to be where the cool kids hang out now so I'm re-posting it here. I will probably upload every few days, time permitting. If you're like me and prefer instant gratification, you can find the story under my same name and the story's same title over on FFN.
> 
> Trigger warnings for just about everything you can imagine. Read the tags. You have been warned.

Hermione jumped at the sound of the door slamming behind her and aimed her wand in defence. For a few seconds, she held her wand and narrowed her eyes, before remembering where she was and relaxing.  
  
Six years had passed since the end of the war, and she still jumped and armed herself at any sudden noise. Residual trauma, the healers had said. Post traumatic stress, the Muggle doctors had said. Whatever they wanted to call it, it lingered. True, it was not nearly as bad as it had been in the first year or so after the war, when she awoke with nightmares each night and practically had to drown herself in dreamless sleep potions to get any rest at all. Every day, every month, every year, it got better. She had long since given up hope that it would go away completely.  
  
"Right this way," the director, Miss Glastonbury, said. Hermione nodded and followed. It was one of her first assignments since she had transferred to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. She was here to perform a basic review and audit of the Ministry Home for Children. The Wizarding orphanage. Where many of the war orphans had ended up.  
  
"Of course since so much time has passed many of our original charges after the war have since been adopted or sent to live with family," Miss Glastonbury continued in a crisp voice not unlike Minerva McGonagall's but lacking the Scottish brogue. "And many have come of age or left for Hogwarts. But there are still some who return here in the summers, and we still do have some young ones who have been here since the war ended. And that's where I will be taking you now."  
  
They walked down a narrow, dark set of stairs toward what looked like a large basement. Or a dungeon.  
  
"They live down here?" Hermione asked.  
  
Miss Glastonbury nodded.  
  
"Full time?"  
  
Miss Glastonbury nodded again. "We tried keeping them upstairs with the other children, the ones who have lost their parents in the years since the war, the 'transitory' ones we call them because they are almost always adopted or sent to family right away. But these are our more…permanent residents. They don't remember their parents, thank God, and they have only known this place. They are scared around others. They… act out. So for their own safety and, in a way, comfort, and that of the other children, we thought it best to keep them down here. Together."  
  
Hermione was too horrified to scribble this down on her clipboard. Not that she would need notes to remember it.  
  
"How can you… I mean it just seems cruel. It's like a prison."  
  
Miss Glastonbury stopped and turned to look down her pointed nose and through her cat-eye glasses at Hermione. "I assure you, Miss Granger, if I could find homes for them, I would. And if I could get them to interact with the outside world, I would. These children have problems. Anger problems. Nightmares. Uncontrolled magical outbursts. People have been hurt, Miss Granger, some of them very seriously." Hermione said nothing. "I resent your implication that we are in the business of cruelty here. We are not. I love every child in here like my own."  
  
Miss Glastonbury's tone clearly indicated that she did not, in fact, love all the children in this home.  
  
"Do they ever leave?"  
  
"We try. They do not want to."  
  
"What about their health? Education?"  
  
"We have healers and tutors who come to them. Unfortunately, it's a bit of a revolving door. Most who come do not last very long. Many others only come for a short while under various agreements with the Ministry, usually community service as sentences for minor infractions."  
  
"Criminals are teaching and taking care of them?" Hermione raised her eyebrows in incredulity. What other horrors will I discover here?  
  
"We would never let anyone dangerous near the children, Miss Granger." Miss Glastonbury's voice became dangerously calm. Hermione nodded. "I have to take my volunteers where I can get them, since permanent staff have been difficult to retain. In fact, only in the past few years have I had a constant member of staff dedicated to this group."  
  
"I'd like to interview whoever that is, if I may," Hermione said. "For the report."  
  
"I may be able to arrange that. He may not agree."  
  
"You cannot direct him?"  
  
"This is not a man to be directed easily. He works quite independently. It was a condition of him coming here. I was not in a position to negotiate that."  
  
"Interesting," Hermione mused. "Is there any evidence of war trauma among these children?"  
  
Miss Glastonbury nodded gravely. "Some of the most severe I have seen."  
  
"You, um, you said that they have no family. Were their entire families…?"  
  
"No, just their parents."  
  
"And they have no other relations?"  
  
"None who are willing to take them in."  
  
"And no one is willing to adopt them?"  
  
"Not after they learn who these children are. I have come close, so close, so many times to finding them homes. I now believe it to be impossible."  
  
"But… why?" Hermione could not understand how or why a group of children had been completely isolated after the war. All but swept under the rug and forgotten.  
  
"Why?" Miss Glastonbury stopped before a large bookshelf and pulled a thick registry off the shelf. Opening it to the right page, she held it out to Hermione. "Read for yourself. This is as far as anyone really needs to look. This is as far as anyone has ever looked."  
  
She read the parchment. It was a list of names. _Rosier. Mulciber. Macnair. Avery. Lestrange_.  
  
 _Oh my God._ Comprehension dawned. She looked up and met Miss Glastonbury's eyes. The older woman's eyes were filled with sadness and resignation, as was her voice when she finally spoke.  
  
"You see now, Miss Granger, why no Wizarding family, relatives or otherwise, is willing to let these children into their homes. These are the children of the Death Eaters." 


	2. Old Souls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their eyes met but they said nothing. They all knew they hadn't thought about that, they all felt horrible guilt, and there was no point in talking about it.

"You just cannot imagine how horrible it was," Hermione said later that night in Grimmauld Place. Across from her chair, on the sofa, sat Harry and Ginny, their eyes gaping. She was bound by confidentiality to not speak of things she saw during open investigations and audits, but decided Harry should know about this. Of all the people in the Ministry, in the Wizarding world, the Chosen One might be able to do something about it.  
  
Harry always insisted that Hermione come to Grimmauld Place whenever she was in London for work, for a cup of tea or a drink at least. It was a remnant from the war. Not knowing the whereabouts of his friends for long periods of time made him anxious, fearful that something had happened to him. Ron had joked about getting him a clock like his mother's, but Harry had just rolled his eyes and snapped at Ron that if it was wrong to be concerned with the whereabouts of his friends, he didn't want to be right.  
  
Harry absently rubbed Ginny's stomach. She was seven months along with their first child, a boy. There was no question that he would be named for Harry's father. When he wasn't rubbing his wife's stomach, he was resting his hand on top of it protectively. Another remnant of the war, Hermione thought. Protective of everyone he loves.  
  
The three friends, in their early twenties, had lived through horrors that most people could even dream of after a lifetime, let alone by their eighteenth birthdays. Friends at this age should be drinking cocktails and gossiping about friends and forging careers. Not cleaning up the mess of a war. Not struggling to recover from its effects.  
  
"Their eyes…" Hermione went on. "They were so… hollow. So old. You know what I mean? These children have old eyes. There is no curiosity. No wonder. No love. Not even fear or anger. Just..."  
  
"Devoid," Ginny whispered. Hermione nodded.  
  
"And all of their parents are dead?" Harry whispered. The subject hit close to home, as Hermione had hoped it would. She hoped that if anyone could look past the parents to the plight of the children, it would be him.  
  
Hermione nodded. "Or serving life sentences in Azkaban. Or Kissed." Harry shuddered. "Most of them do have living relatives, Muggle or magical, but none of them want to take them in. They're afraid of being associated with them, seen as supporting Voldemort, even after all this time. Most of them went so far as to change their own names. I looked it up in the records office after I got back. The children in that orphanage are the last in Wizarding Britain to have those surnames."  
  
"I just can't believe…" Harry's voice trailed off as he contemplated the hand on his wife's stomach, feeling his son kicking beneath. "I just can't believe that the Ministry, the post-war Ministry, would do this to innocent children."  
  
"You're surprised?" Ginny said. "I'm not. Some of the faces may have changed, but the bureaucracy hasn't. There are prejudices, grudges, things that just don't go away overnight. This is the same Ministry that let the Dementors guard Azkaban. The same Ministry that locked away Sirius for thirteen years without a trial. The same Ministry that gave that Umbridge woman free reign at Hogwarts. Kingsley's done a lot, but he can't change everything, and many of the same officials from before the war are still there. Hell, Harry, you see it almost every day. Complain about it almost every day, too," she said with a wink.  
  
Harry sighed. "Orphans—war orphans—have enough to deal with as it is. Every day of their lives they experience loss and pain. They don't need mistreatment and cruelty on top of it. I mean, from what you've described, Hermione, they might as well have thrown the children in Azkaban with their parents."  
  
Hermione nodded. She had thought the same thing during her visit.  
  
"Nobody cares," she said sadly, staring into her glass of wine as if it held all the answers. "That's the problem. Nobody thinks about it. Everyone was so generous in their outpouring of support for the war orphans, of finding them homes, but they all conveniently forgot that the Death Eaters had families too, or at least some of them did. And you know that I have no love for them, and I'm glad that they are either dead or rotting in Azkaban. But…"  
  
"Their children are not their parents," Harry said, finishing her sentence. "Yet they're being punished for it."  
  
"I don't doubt that they grew up hearing the propaganda of their parents. But that doesn't mean they still agree with it. Or that they ever did to begin with. I mean, do either of you remember things you heard when you were three? And agree with it still? I know I don't!"  
  
"If the war taught us nothing else, it's that people can change their long-held beliefs when given the right influence and motivation," Ginny said. Harry took her hand and squeezed it. They all knew who she was referring to.  
  
"Speaking of whom," Hermione said. "I think he's working there with them. Snape." Their heads snapped up towards hers. "I mean, after he recovered from the attack and finally got out of St. Mungo's he just sort of dropped off the face of the earth and no one's seen hide nor hair of him for over five years. There's only one permanent staff member who takes care of these kids, or who teaches them at least. A teacher. And he demanded complete autonomy and independence. And confidentiality. The director also told me that he is not a man who negotiates. Now, who does that remind you of?"  
  
"But why would he do it?" Harry asked. "He hated their parents as much as we did. More so, probably. And he's probably responsible for the deaths or imprisonment of half of them."  
  
"I think that's why he would do it, if it is him," Hermione said. "I mean, think about it. He hated your father. Hated him. Probably still does hate him. And yes he loved your mother, but I don't think that's the only reason he spent all those years protecting you. I think he felt guilty for the role he played. I don't think he ever stopped feeling responsible for orphaning you. We all know the guilt ate away at him for years, decades. I think that made him feel responsible for your safety. And you're right—he betrayed, killed, and passed on information leading to the capture of these children's parents. I could see him feeling the same responsibility to them that he felt to you. He would have been in a position to know if these people had children. Maybe he even met them. He definitely taught the older ones, and almost all of them were in his House. And didn't Sirius even say that, once upon a time, most of these people were his friends? Didn't your mother even say that to him, once? Maybe he feels responsible for orphaning his former friends' children."  
  
Harry nodded slowly. "I hadn't thought about it that way, that he would feel responsible for those left behind. I always thought it was love and guilt for what his actions did to my mother, not what he did to me."  
  
"Well, really, they are the same thing. And he'd be a monster not to feel bad about orphaning children," Ginny said.  
  
Silence thundered. Each and every one of them was responsible for the death of several Death Eaters. For that they felt no guilt. But they had never considered that they might be depriving innocent children of their parents, vile and sick and evil as they were. The realization hit them all hard.  
  
Their eyes met but they said nothing. They all knew they hadn't thought about that, they all felt horrible guilt, and there was no point in talking about it.  
  
"You want to do something about it," Harry said finally, draining his cup of tea. He never drank alcohol and only kept a wine in the house for guests.  
  
Hermione nodded. "I do. I can write a useless report that will be filed away in some drawer and never read, but I want to do more. I want to bring…attention to this problem. I want to change this. I mean it's not like we can force families to take these children in, but we could attempt to raise awareness. Get them some services they desperately need—counseling, healing, more teachers. The Ministry has not hired anyone since Maybe-Snape to teach these children. They rely on wizards serving community service for things like violating the Statute of Secrecy or misusing Muggle artefacts. There is no continuity, no stability. The place and the children remain, but everything else remains the same. That cannot be healthy. These children are traumatised by the war and they know, I'm sure, the legacy of their parents. They need more services than anyone else in that orphanage, but they get the least."  
  
"Voldemort grew up in those conditions," Harry said softly. "What you're describing sounds a lot like what I saw in Dumbledore's memories of Voldemort's childhood."  
  
Another long silence passed between the three friends.  
  
"I don't know what happened to the ones who left. The ones who are of age or the ones who ran away before they came of age. I plan to look at Hogwarts' enrollment records; as an auditor I can do that without raising any suspicion. And I can look into what happened to those who have since graduated. Just to see if there's anyone the Ministry should keep its eye on. And to have an idea of what we're dealing with."  
  
"I want to see it," Harry said. "Are you going back?"  
  
Hermione nodded. "Tomorrow. I want to look at the medical records and try to interview the teacher. I'm almost positive it's Snape, which means he probably won't let me within ten feet of him. But I'll at least try to get him to talk to me. Especially if I tell him we want to help."  
  
"I'll meet you there, then," Harry said. "Under the cloak. If I'm spotted there it might attract attention. And I don't think this is the right time for it."  
  
Hermione nodded. Harry's fame had increased ten-fold after the war. Mobbed and hounded everywhere he went. Picture in the paper if he was spotted anywhere outside the Ministry or his home. That was the only reason he and Ginny had decided to settle in Grimmauld Place, despite the painful memories associated with it. It was still unplottable and protected by the Fidelius charm and anti-apparition enchantments, so it provided the Potters with enough privacy to live their lives and start their family.  
  
"I'm glad you're coming," Hermione said. "I really think you'll be able to bring some much-needed attention, and funding, to this problem. You're a good friend."  
  
"This has nothing to do with being a good friend or a bad friend or a celebrity or an Auror or anything else. These are war orphans, they're being treated abysmally, and I know that you're not the type to exaggerate or lie. I believe you when you say these children live in a prison. When I was their age, I lived in similar conditions, though not nearly as bad. So forget thanking me. I'm not doing it as a favour to you. I'm doing it because it's the right thing to do."  
  
Ginny squeezed his elbow with a smile. She was proud of her husband. Lesser men would have let the fame go to their heads. Not Harry. Few men had his moral compass.  
  
"Will you ask Ron to come?" Ginny said. "You'd be almost guaranteed of success if you had the whole Golden Trio doing this. Solidarity and whatnot. And it might turn the heads of some of the Ministry bigwigs."  
  
"Yeah, I'm supposed to see him tonight anyway. I'll definitely ask him, but I won't bet on him coming," Hermione said. "You know that, of all of us, he believed in the harshest punishments for the Death Eaters and believed the only good Death Eater was a dead Death Eater. I think he blames them all for Fred's death. I can't see him letting go of that. But yes, I will ask."  
  
Ginny nodded, agreeing with Hermione's assessment of the situation.  
  
"I'd best be going. I'll talk to Ron. And I'll see you tomorrow." Giving each one a hug and kiss on the cheek, she left.

* * *

"Hermione!" Ron cried happily as he opened the door. He pulled her into a big bear hug and kissed her on the cheek. She laughed and reciprocated. He released her and gestured for her to enter. Ever since George had married Angelina Johnson last year, Ron alone had occupied the flat above Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes in Diagon Alley.  
  
Their relationship had ended amicably five years earlier. Being in the same House, the intensity of the war, the isolation of their search for Horcruxes, and the experience of the final battle in particular had given them feelings of desperation and closeness that they had both mistaken for love. After things had died down and they both began to wrestle with their demons, they determined that not only were they no longer the same people they were before the war, they were not as compatible as they had hoped. Despite this, they remained great friends. It was a great source of comfort to Hermione that the Golden Trio was still together.  
  
Ron invited her in and offered her a glass of wine, but she declined (having had two glasses at Harry's) and instead took him up on his offer of tea. They chatted for a bit about his work at his brother's shop and her visit with Harry and Ginny. At last she got to the heart of the matter and related to him her visit to the orphanage, her desire to help, and Harry's agreement to work with her and visit the next day. She extended the invitation.  
  
"Hermione… I don't know…" he said finally. "I get what you're saying, I really do. And I think it's great, and I hope you succeed. But I don't think I can be a part of this." His blue eyes looked glassy and sincerely regretful. "I really am sorry."  
  
Hermione nodded and patted his arm. The war had matured Ron in ways she never thought had been possible. He could still be his old self (funny, gregarious, an idiot) but he now had the capacity for introspection that had surprised even him. The old, pre-war Ron would have railed about her plan, asking why these children of murderers, rapists, and terrorists should be given the time of day, and that they were no better than their parents. The post-war Ron knew better. He had the wisdom to differentiate between the father and the son. He also knew himself well enough to know that he could not participate.  
  
"I understand, really. There's no pressure. I just wanted to extend the invitation." She smiled.  
  
"I don't want you to think that I'm, you know, blaming these kids for anything."  
  
"I know you're not."  
  
"It's just… knowing what happened, seeing those names, seeing their parents in their faces… I honestly don't know if I'll be able to handle that well. And the last thing, the last thing, I want to do is discover halfway through that I can't do it anymore and leave the two of you to pick up the pieces."  
  
Hermione knew what he was referring to and decided to say nothing on the subject. Ron had never forgiven himself for storming out on them in the tent that night.  
  
"Well, even if you did, it would be understandable. I don't know if we'll be able to do anything at all, or if we'll even be able to see this through, but we want to try."  
  
He nodded. "Keep me updated on what happens, though. If there's anything I can do, you know, off on the sidelines…"  
  
"You'll be the first one I call," she said. "I promise."

* * *

Hermione had spent enough time with her best friend to recognise the emotion in his emerald eyes even when his face remained stoic. Today it was hard to read his expression, because there were so many emotions thrown in there together: fear, guilt, anger, anguish, helplessness, and determination were all there. Perhaps others she did could not identify. It wasn't easy in this light.  
  
The children were huddled together in a corner, speaking in whispers. There were about fifteen of them, ranging in age from about five or six to about eleven, just old enough to begin at Hogwarts next term. The eyes, the same dead eyes Hermione had seen the day before, stared at them. Their hair was unkempt, their skin pallid, their clothes ratty. The clothes were surely donations, but likely rejects from other charity drives that had been sent here rather than thrown away. There were no windows and no natural light, just an enchanted low glow from the ceiling that looked almost like a black light. Had any of these children ever been outside?  
  
Strangers were not welcome down here. Even though the cast of teachers, healers, and caregivers changed frequently, they had never got used to seeing new faces. They clearly were shaken, scared, and didn't trust them.  
  
They were all in one big common room with a few tables and a couch that was losing its stuffing in one corner. Harry and Hermione had not gone far beyond the door before the children had stood up from their seats and ran to the opposite corner of the room, as far away from the new strangers as they could get.  
  
They had the look of children who expected abuse. Hermione knew that Miss Glastonbury had lied about not letting anyone dangerous or violent near the children. Some of the "volunteers" had likely lost loved ones to the Death Eaters, and Hermione was willing to bet that more than a few took this as an opportunity for revenge.  
  
"Do you think we should…" Harry began.  
  
Hermione shook her head. "I think it would only scare them."  
  
"I want to say… something, anything… let them know we won't hurt them."  
  
"I don't think they'll believe us."  
  
Harry nodded. "We should go, then." They turned and quietly left through the same door they came in, casting one last look at the children, who were looking visibly relieved that the strange visitors were now leaving. They took care to close the door gently and quietly, so as not to alarm them. They only turned around once the door latched, and they turned around to find themselves standing face-to-face with an imposing, tall, dark figure.  
  
The murderous glare was one they had seen many times before, yet it looked even more intense than they remembered.  
  
Hermione had been right, as usual. Severus Snape was indeed working with the orphans.  
  
"What the hell are you two doing here?" he spat, arms crossed, glaring down at them. Though they were fully-grown adults, neither one could come close to Snape in height. They had forgotten just how tall he was. He was seething. "Who let you in here? Who are you working for? Is this some sort of spectacle to you? Some sort of exhibition?"  
  
"No!" Hermione protested. "I don't know if you've been told, but I'm here conducting an audit, and—"  
  
"And you thought you'd bring your friend with you to see the entertainment? A star tour of the Ministry's wonderful institution?"  
  
"Not in so many words, but yes. I was here yesterday, and appalled by what I saw, and he wanted to see it too."  
  
"Bring anyone else, did you? The press decide to follow you down here to expose them?"  
  
"I'm here to see if I can help!" Harry protested. It struck him at this moment that they could have had this exact same discussion seven years ago, at Hogwarts, during a DADA lesson. The dynamic seemingly had not changed. Snape was on the offensive, accusing, and he and Hermione were on the defensive, protesting their innocence.  
  
Curious how the more things change, the more they stay the same.  
  
For a long time, nobody spoke. Finally, Hermione decided to break the silence. "Maybe we could… sit down somewhere and talk?" Snape snarled at her, and it looked like he was deciding whether to hex them right there or take them outside first and then hex them. Instead, he chose option three and led them through a door down the corridor, which turned out to be his office.  
  
He moved behind the desk, steepled his fingers, and stared at them with his cold, black eyes, saying nothing. After all these years, and all this time away from Hogwarts, it still worked. Harry and Hermione both sat up straighter and waited for him to speak.  
  
He looked... similar yet different. He no longer wore black from head to toe, but a white shirt, charcoal trousers, and a grey jumper. It looked rather… smart. A few wisps of grey hair here and there, and two jagged snakebite scars on his neck, but nothing drastic. His hair was shorter than they had ever seen it. It was soft and maybe one or two inches long and cut in a way that framed his face, rather than the oily black curtains that they had been so used to. At this length the hair flared out a bit and had, well, volume and shape. His skin was a healthier, albeit paler, shade, no longer yellowish. He probably spent most of his time in here. But those eyes, those cold, piercing eyes, had not changed a bit.  
  
Hermione was struck by the fact that even though he was six years older, he looked nearly ten years younger.  
  
He had been unconscious for hours in the Boat House before anyone had come to retrieve his body. Once discovered, everyone had been shocked to discover that he had lost less blood than they had feared (the snake's fangs, once examined, had apparently dulled and not pierced all the way through to his veins, though it had been a very close call) and that the poison had not killed him but rather caused him to slip into a coma. For a full year he lay in a vegetative state in St. Mungo's, blissfully unaware of the publicity and hero worship that followed. They almost wondered if he stayed unconscious purposefully so as to avoid it. Nevertheless, he had awakened on the war's first anniversary, surprisingly healthy, and then vanished into obscurity.  
  
Finally, he spoke, slowly and dangerously as when he had been their professor. "You have breached my security, gawked at war orphans, and scared the shite out of them. Tell me right now why I should not hex you, Obliviate you, and then throw you outside on the curb this very instant."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Severus has been rocking the same hairstyle since he was, what, nine? It was time for a change.
> 
> I preferred Severus's death scene in the movie to that of the book so that will be used in this fic, even though the rest will be book canon. I did this for two reasons: 1) I thought that they took an already-epic scene and improved upon it, and 2) I thought he was more likely to survive a rescue attempt if he was attacked on school grounds, rather than in Hogsmeade, which is something like a mile away.


	3. A Modest Proposal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I see you have not outgrown your precious saviour complex, Potter. It's a small comfort to know that so little has changed in the last few years."

Severus had heard the alarm from his office and rushed in as soon as he could. There were strangers in the common room. Strangers that had not been vetted by him, who he had not met, who he had not approved.  
  
The security protocol was his design. He had insisted on screening every new "volunteer" that Glastonbury sent down here ever since he had walked in and witnessed a sobbing, irate, grown man kicking a little girl in the stomach, punishment for being the daughter of Evan Rosier as he screamed, "My sister! My sister is dead because of your father!"  
  
Granzela Glastonbury. The woman did Dolores bloody Umbridge proud.  
  
Though he was famous (infamous) for manhandling students and verbally abusing them, he never, ever had raised his hand to a child. And never would do so. Ever. He knew what it was to be a powerless child, at the mercy of a grown man who could do anything. That would not happen on his watch.  
  
He would meet them and interview them, discuss their background and experiences during the war. His real purpose, of course, was to perform Legilimency on the prospects to ascertain their real feelings and motivations. If he was satisfied that the person did not have a vendetta against his charges, he would Obliviate them and send them to the common room. If he discovered that the person posed a danger, he would lead them outside and Obliviate them there. Either way, he did not want it known that he was here. That was the last thing he wanted.  
  
The new protocol had been in place only a few months, and Severus could have kicked himself for not realising the problem sooner. The children never said anything. He was worried they were beginning to think they deserved this treatment from others, and he would have none of that.  
  
They did not deserve that. They would get that through their heads, or he would die trying.  
  
And now, two unvetted persons had entered the common room, setting off the alarm. The children had panicked and placed a palm on the green brick in the wall, the one that raised a second alarm. He rushed out and into the hallway to discover the trespassers, the ones who threatened these children.  
  
Potter. Harry fucking Potter. And the know-it-all Hermione Granger. His only consolation was that Weasley had not joined them. Two he could handle. All three might give him a stroke.  
  
Seeing them both had been… jarring. Especially Potter. Especially since the last time he really, truly had seen Potter was on the floor of the Boat House. Crying (fucking crying!) in front of him. Giving him his memories of his most intimate secrets. (Well, almost all of them.) Believing he was about to die. He knew Potter had come to see him in hospital. Out of guilt, no doubt, and probably with a wish to talk. To talk about _her_. Potter had attempted contact a few times since, and always, always, he had refused. Seeing him here now, in the flesh, without warning (without fucking warning! He was going to kill Glastonbury) and scaring the children half to death… he could have hexed Potter right there if he wasn't sure it would result in him getting sacked.  
  
No, helping the kids was more important to him than hexing Potter. But only just.  
  
Granger… of course she would be here, tagging along, helping Potter with whatever cockamamie scheme he had come up with. Because that's what she did. She hadn't aged a day, and here she was in all her naïve, idealistic glory. He supposed it was good that not everyone had been completely shattered by the war.  
  
Now they sat before him, and he discovered with delight that he could still intimidate them. They may be adults and war heroes, same as him, but in his eyes, they were still annoying children who broke the rules.  
  
"You have breached my security, gawked at war orphans, and scared the shit out of them. Tell me right now why I should not Obliviate you and throw you outside on the curb this very instance."  
  
Granger spoke up. Of course. "I'm here conducting an audit of the orphanage—"  
  
"You said that," Severus interrupted.  
  
"And when I was here yesterday, I was appalled at what I saw," she continued as if he hadn't spoken at all. That had always annoyed him. "Seeing children, war orphans, treated so abysmally… I was horrified. I told Harry about it, and he agreed we might be able to do something about it."  
  
"I see you have not outgrown your precious saviour complex, Potter. It's a small comfort to know that so little has changed in the last few years."  
  
Potter rolled his eyes. "Call it what you want, Severus, I'm here because it's the right thing to do."  
  
Severus's eyes widened then narrowed at Potter's use of his given name. Potter seemed to notice this because he added, "You're not my professor anymore, we're all adults here, and after all we've been through, we should be on familiar terms with one another."  
  
"We have not been through anything together, _Potter_ ," Severus replied, his emphasis on the use of Potter's last name. He hoped that Potter wouldn't bring up the memories, the ones he had given him when he thought he was dying. The memories that Potter had oh so politely decided to place in his Gringott's vault along with a note for Severus stating that he could count on his discretion and if he wanted the memories back, all he had to do was owl the bank and they would transfer the vial of memories (all of them, he promised) into his own vault. And an open invitation to have tea. Tea. With Potter. Out of the question.  
  
"I disagree, _Severus_ ," Potter replied pointedly. And stopped there. Even Potter wasn't stupid enough to bring all that up. Thank Merlin for that.  
  
"We're not here to step on anyone's toes," Granger interjected diplomatically. He snorted at that. "And we didn't mean to scare the children. We were not informed of any sort of protocol or anything like that, and we had no idea that we would scare them. I saw them for a minute yesterday while they were eating, through the window, and didn't realise that going inside would scare them. That was my fault, and I apologise. Believe me when I say that we are all on the same side here."  
  
"The Golden Trio on the side of the Death Eaters' offspring? Not bloody likely," Severus muttered.  
  
"Two war orphans who are on the side of other war orphans," Potter retorted. "Who know that life is hard enough when you've lost your parents, especially like that, without being reduced to prisoner status. Regardless of who their parents were."  
  
Severus decided to reply to the only part of Potter's statement that he suspected wasn't true. "You, Granger? I thought your parents were happily hidden down in Australia." He had read the extensive interviews the three had given to  _The Quibbler_  after the war. Everyone had.  
  
Granger nodded. "They are. And they are unaware that they have a daughter. This isn't widely known, but I Obliviated all their memories of me and everything about their lives in England. _Everything_. I created new names and identities and memories for them and sent them to Australia for their protection. I…" her voice became shaky. If Granger broke down in his office, he was going to have a fit. Luckily for her, her voice recovered. "I cannot reverse the charms on them. I tried, and I failed. I am as good as orphaned. I have no family to speak to, no one left I'm related to. My parents are now Wendell and Monica Wilkins, not Wendell and Monica Granger, and I'm the last one left in my family. So yes, I too was orphaned by this war. By necessity."  
  
She stared at him challengingly. Challenging him to tell her that she did not know what this was like. While Severus was usually happy to take up such a challenge, he decided that today it was probably best to let this one go.  
  
"So what half-baked plan have the two of you come up with? I hope you've refined that skill in the last few years." He looked at them pointedly, and their eyes widened. They clearly had not suspected that he would invite them to share their proposal with so little resistance.

* * *

They had not expected him to invite them to share their proposal with so little resistance. For Snape, this was… nothing.  
  
Harry and Hermione looked at each other for a moment and silently agreed that it would probably sound better coming from Hermione. That Snape had not hexed Harry the moment he laid eyes on him was a small miracle. Clearing her throat, Hermione began to speak.  
  
"From what little I have seen here, the children are in desperate need of services. Real services. It seems that the only continuity they have had here is you and Miss Glastonbury, who seems to avoid this section as much as possible. So really, it's been all you."  
  
"And you no doubt believe that, in and of itself, is child abuse," Snape said defensively.  
  
"No. No. That's not what I was going to say at all." He really hadn't changed. "I think what you have been doing for them is wonderful. It's a necessary but thankless job. But it's an impossible job for only one person. Even if you've been doing everything you can, and I do believe you have been doing everything you can. But you need help. You need constant counselors in here, real ones, who are well trained in treating war trauma. You need constant healers who understand the very real mental and physical problems these children have and who can see them over and over again and really, truly evaluate their progress. I went to view their medical records earlier today with Harry—"  
  
"You should not have been allowed to look at those!" Snape said, venom in his voice, eyes blazing. "Those are confidential."  
  
"As an auditor for the Ministry, I have access to them, as does Harry. Don't worry, I won't share anything from them with anyone else. But I noticed that many of them have violent outbursts of magic, have self-inflicted injuries, have mental problems. Learning disabilities. What Muggles would call post-traumatic stress disorder. They are malnourished, many of them. Broken bones. Bruises. I could go on and on. I'm sure this isn't anything you don't know already. And then think about their socialization. These children are terrified, _terrified_ , of anyone unfamiliar. And with good reason, I suspect, as they seem to have all suffered from physical abuse. No doubt from some of Miss Glastonbury's 'volunteers', who I suspect she hasn't vetted as well as she claims." She raised her eyebrows at Snape, who tensed and nodded.  
  
"That's what I thought," she went on. "Miss Glastonbury isn't the first person to lie to an auditor, and she won't be the last. Look at all these problems, Severus." He flinched again at the use of his given name, but she ignored it. "You cannot possibly solve all these problems on your own. You have been taking care of their educational, psychological, social, and medical needs for five years. You have to be exhausted. And honestly, you aren't enough for them."  
  
"I am everything they have," he said coldly.  
  
"She's not criticising you; you're doing brilliantly under the circumstances," Harry interjected, trying to keep the peace. He knew what happened when Snape felt insulted and had no wish to relive that experience, even now. "But we think we can help. What you need is more resources. And funding. And better management in this place. We think we can help you with that."  
  
"All I'm really able to do right now is write a report that no one will read," Hermione said. "I don't think that helps anyone. But Harry… whatever he touches turns to gold. There was a tremendous outpouring of money to the orphanage right after the war, and that's dried up in the last few years as everyone has perceived that they have either grown up or found homes. Really all anyone donates to anymore is the Hogwarts tuition fund, correct?" Snape nodded. "So we all know that these children have greater needs than that. So we think if Harry brings attention to the orphanage, points out that there are still children living here full-time, year round, he can get people to raise money for it pretty easily."  
  
"That will not happen when people learn who the orphans are," Snape replied.  
  
"We thought not, too, so that's why we would focus on the orphanage itself. Harry, being one, is the perfect poster child for it. We think we can keep quiet just who is here. I mean, we don't like it, but we think it's better for the children if people don't know who they are, exactly."  
  
"And I also have a lot of influence with many of the higher-ups in the Ministry," Harry said. "I make no promises, but I can talk to Kingsley and see what we can do about the management here. I'd actually like to recommend you for the job; Kingsley will probably go for it, especially if he hears what's actually going on here. We suspect he's just been getting updates from Miss Glastonbury and not looking into it further, what with all the other problems the Ministry faces. We don't think he's deliberately ignored or allowed what happens here, but that he has had so many other concerns—Death Eater trials, property reallocation, social and medical services for survivors, rebuilding Hogwarts—that he has been delegating more than he probably should.  
  
"Anyway," he continued. "I think if we talk to him, we can perhaps get some new management here. Perhaps. I don't want to make promises I can't keep. And if you aren't interested, I'd love to hear of any recommendations or nominations you do have. If you agree, that is," he added quickly.  
  
Snape leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and stared at them both for a long time, considering.

* * *

The orphanage desperately needed people and money for the permanent residents here. They did need more constant counselors. They did need more constant healers. They did need better facilities. And Severus would not even admit this to himself, but… he did need help.  
  
This job was more full-time than being Head of House at Hogwarts, and that had been the epitome of a full-time job. Head of House was a twelve-hour day on average. He worked eighteen or twenty hours per day here. Not that this was especially taxing on him; he was never much of a sleeper and had functioned on less than five hours of sleep per night for decades. But it was what he was not able to accomplish in the twenty hours per day that he worked that was so disheartening. Every time one of his current or former charges cut her wrists or dropped out of Hogwarts or was arrested for petty crimes weighed heavily on him. He took each such incident as a personal failure. Every one who did not make it was his fault. Because he should have done better.  
  
Because he killed their parents. Directly or indirectly, he killed them.  
  
These two… sitting here in front of him. They made it all sound so easy. They were both so sure of their capabilities. So confident of their influence. They made it sound like within a fortnight they could have round-the-clock staffing, better furniture, and gobs of money to pay for it all.  
  
How foolish these two were. Still.  
  
Just then Granger spoke up again. "I know we're making it all sound so easy," she said. "I don't mean to trivialise the challenges or make it sound like we can make the problems all go away with a snap of our fingers. And we know that even if we, against all odds, can even get half of this accomplished, it's still an uphill battle because we're working against years of trauma and neglect by the Wizarding world. We're well aware of this."  
  
Severus's jaw dropped only slightly before snapping shut again. Okay, so the two had more insight and self-awareness than they had as teenagers. They had developed somewhat as normal adults. He would give them that.  
  
"Anyway," Potter said with a smile, rubbing his hands together. "We know this is a lot to take in, and you probably need to think about it. Just let us know if and when you decide anything. We would like to have you on board going forward, but we understand if you want to keep your anonymity. We know you've worked hard for it, and we don't expect you to give it up on our account. But we'll of course give you advance notice of everything we do as we do it, and you can—"  
  
"Wait a moment," Severus said, sitting up and leaning over the desk. He spoke slowly and deliberately. "You intend to do this one way or the other? I am not a man who misunderstands things, but for your sake I sorely hope that I have misunderstood your intentions."  
  
"Well…" Granger said.  
  
"It's not like that…" Potter mumbled.  
  
"You clearly do not understand the way this place works, Potter, Granger. I wish I could say I am surprised at your lack of thoroughness, but I am not surprised at your complete lack of appreciation for a situation and your naïve notion that you can just swoop in and save the day. Albus Dumbledore may have felt comfortable leaving the lives of others in your reckless hands, but I assure you that I do not.  
  
"These are real children with real problems—problems that not even the two of you can begin to understand. Throwing money at this problem will not make it go away. It would help, it would help a great deal, but all it would do is give me but a few the tools I need to begin to address these problems. The issues these children face, both now and after they leave, will not disappear, and there are few people equipped to deal with it, and those that are want nothing to do with them. That. Will. Not. Change. Not overnight, not with a giant cheque from the Ministry, and certainly not with by the glow of the Golden Trio. I see only two of you have signed on for this, anyway. Clearly there is already dissent in your ranks.  
  
"You need their trust for this to work, and I can tell you right this very moment, you never will. The only reason they trusted me is because of this," he reached down to the sleeve of his shirt and rolled it up to reveal his dark mark, now faded away into a silvery-white scar. "They all remember their parents having this mark, and it tells them that I am on their side. They do not understand or remember the full significance of it. They only know that other adults they trusted had this mark, and therefore I must be one of them. Unless the two of you are willing to take this mark, I do not believe that there is any way these children will trust you. If they do not trust you, you cannot help them.  
  
"Finally," Severus continued in his best professor voice. "You do not understand that the only thing standing between them and the Wizarding world is me. If I were not here, it would be the revolving door of 'volunteers' that Glastonbury brings in. Do you know how she gets those volunteers? She brings in people who have been sentenced to community service, no doubt, but she also sells 'slots' to those with a grudge against the Death Eaters and who want to take out their revenge on their children. Yes, they have been subject to abuse. Physical abuse. Lots of it. The woman who runs this organization pimps out these children as punching bags or worse. Children. Little children. This will take time, lots of time.  
  
"I have lost so many of them these last five years to crime or substance abuse or worse. Others seem to have just vanished into thin air. And you two waltz in here with your golden reputations and influence and believe you can just fix this overnight. You think you can do this whether I participate or not and whether I consent or not. You need my consent for this to happen. You will not get within one hundred feet of this building without my consent. I don't care how many people in this world worship you as living gods, I am not one of them. I know your shortcomings and your failings and the two biggest ones you share are staring me in the face: an inability to plan and the foolish notion that your mere presence in a situation will save the day.  
  
"I am tempted to simply Obliviate the two of you, but as I am feeling generous today, I will merely tell you to leave and abandon this ridiculous idea. Go home and pat yourselves on the back that you have decided to work for the greater good and that you do not dismiss an entire population of children just because of who your parents are. You can hold onto that and tell yourselves you are good people. But you will not pursue this plan with me, and you will certainly not pursue it without me."  
  
He locked his cold, hard, emotionless eyes on them and spoke very slowly and angrily, the tone of voice he used when he wanted to make students cry. "Now get out of my sight."

* * *

"Well," Harry said as they reached the door of the orphanage leading to the street outside, "that could have gone a lot worse."  
  
Hermione just looked at him, eyebrows raised as if to say, "You've got to be kidding me."  
  
"Really, he could have Obliviated us and thrown our arses out on the pavement. We could have forgot about all of this," he went on, trying to convince himself that they hadn't just been handed their arses by their former professor.  
  
Hermione exhaled and leaned against the wall. She wasn't going to kid herself. They had tried and failed. Badly. She did not fail often, but when she did, she knew it. Then again, she was also nothing if not tenacious. She had been rejected by house-elves for years before she finally got laws passed to improve their conditions. She had won over Harry and Ron as friends that first year. She had helped find and destroy the Horcruxes under impossible physical and emotional conditions.  
  
Snape's answer might be no… for now. That didn't mean that he might not change his mind.  
  
"Well, we'll just have to give him some time to digest it and come back," she said finally.  
  
"You're barking," Harry said, sounding more like pre-war Ron than himself. "You want to come back to him? We're lucky we made it out with our memories intact. I think I'm lucky I walked out with my bollocks intact, to be perfectly honest. When he first saw me, I was sure I was going to be at the business end of a hex."  
  
"Do you want to help them or not, Harry?" Hermione said, cutting off his babbling. "It won't be easy, but then when have we ever taken the easy way out of anything? We see a need, we have the ability to at least try to help the situation, and we can do it. We just need to get Snape on our side."  
  
"Did you listen to what happened in there?" Harry asked incredulously. "He doesn't want our help. And he's right, we can't do this without him on board. Blimey, I had forgotten just how scary he was. It's just been me and those memories for so long, the softer side of Snape took over, and I'd forgotten just how angry he can get."  
  
"He wasn't angry, I think he was just defensive," Hermione said thoughtfully. "Think about it, how many people other than us have likely come in there and offered to help those children? I'd bet my wand that we're the first. Oh, we went about it all wrong!" She slapped her palm to her forehead. "Stupid." Harry looked at her quizzically. "Don't you see? He's a Slytherin. They don't just do nice things for each other—no one offers anything without expecting anything back. It's an anathema to their worldview. He fully expects there to be some sort of catch, and when we didn't explain what it was, he threw us out. He didn't believe us when we said we wanted to help. He's certain we want something from him."  
  
"Shouldn't he know us better than that?" Harry asked. "I mean, it's not like we're strangers. He knows this is the sort of thing we would do."  
  
"I don't think it's about that," she said sadly. "I think he mistrusts everybody, and with good reason. And now he feels responsible for those kids, so he's even less trusting than he was to begin with."  
  
Harry nodded, understanding. "I think you're right. We needed to be less…"  
  
"Gryffindor about it."  
  
"Exactly. Well, lesson learnt. What do you reckon we ought to do now?"  
  
"Like I said, give him some time to digest it, a week or two, and then come back and speak to him again. I mean, he can't get more angry after more time… can he?"  
  
Now it was Harry's turn to give her the "Tell me you're kidding" look.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from Jonathan Swift's satirical essay of the same name.
> 
> Coming Up: We meet a few of the Death Eater orphans, and Harry and Hermione get a rude awakening as to the full extent of the problem.


	4. Broken China Dolls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You both know there are far more dangerous places in this world than Knockturn Alley after dark, and you would do well to act accordingly. You are famous war heroes; act like it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So all those grim tags for this story? They pretty much all apply to this chapter. TW for literally EVERYTHING so proceed at your own risk.

Ermengarde Rosier woke up screaming, screaming, screaming. Cold sweat covered her body. She sat bolt upright in bed.  
  
Her brother Leopold was immediately at her side, pulling her close to his chest and hugging her tight.  
  
"It's okay," he whispered into her ear, stroking her dirty blond hair, rocking her gently back and forth. "It's okay. I'm here. I've got you."  
  
She sobbed quietly into her older brother's chest. She had had another vision of her parents arrested in front of them and being forcibly removed from their home. Visions of them in Azkaban, where they had been brought to say good-bye. The Dementors looming overhead so that they could not even reminisce about happier times together. They said the Dementors were gone from Azkaban now, but they were not gone from her mind.  
  
Her mother's eyes, full of tears, as she kissed her daughter's hand and told her to listen to her brother. Her father, stoic, not saying a word, merely pulling her tight to his chest and planting a kiss on her forehead. They had done the same to Leopold. And to their older sister Brigita.  
  
Mummy had said not to worry, that they were going to be given a kiss goodnight and they would fall into a very deep sleep. She had said they would be relaxed and happy, and that she and her brother and sister would be going to live with all the other children and make all sorts of friends, so many friends that she would not even miss them.  
  
She had been four years old at the time, her brother six, her sister nine. They were nine and eleven and fourteen now. Soon Leopold would be off to Hogwarts, and she would be stuck here, alone. He had said he wanted to stay here, with Ermengarde, until it was time for her to go to Hogwarts. Insisted that he would not leave his sister behind. But Mr. Snape had said that he needed to go, that the best way he could take care of his sister would be to get a good education so he could support her when he grew up. Ermengarde sobbed harder at the thought. Everyone wanted to take her brother away. Did they not know that he was all she had? Did they not know what happened to the children who left the orphanage for Hogwarts? They never came back.  
  
Like Brigita.  
  
It was enough to give anyone nightmares.

* * *

Two weeks after her last visit, Hermione found herself back in the underground corridor that led to the common room where the Death Eater Orphans lived. Miss Glastonbury had smiled sweetly, unlocked the door, and told her to take as much time as she needed down there. Purposefully, and quickly, she rounded a corner that would take her both to Snape's office and the common room.

And found herself flat on the ground seconds later.  
  
She had walked into what felt like a barrier that bounced her back with great force, as if she had been bounced by a large, invisible balloon. Her wand was out in an instant. She waved it around her to see who was with her; this was, after all, a dark and deserted corridor. Who knew what could be lurking down here…  
  
Hermione lowered her wand when she saw a dark figure towering over her. Wearing grey again. No black. That was new. So many changes about him—the hair, the clothes. She wondered if his miraculous recovery after his near-death experience and decided to turn over a new leaf in life. One that involved looking less like a vampire.  
  
Snape's satisfied smirk at her condition told her otherwise.  
  
"No one enters this area without my permission, Granger," Snape said mockingly. "I thought I told you that last time."  
  
"I was on my way to see you," she protested, getting up. "Was this really necessary?"  
  
"Given that two unfamiliar, unauthorised persons managed to get into the common room a fortnight ago, yes, it was. I suppose I should thank you and Potter for exposing an unfortunate oversight in my security down here." He didn't.  
  
"Does Miss Glastonbury know about this?" she asked. His glare answered that for her: No, she doesn't, and if you know what's good for you, you won't mention it. "Would you mind bringing down the barrier, please? I want to talk to you."  
  
"If it's about your philanthropic endeavor, you can turn around and go right back where you came from."  
  
"I just want to talk. And Harry isn't with me." She tried to smile. "If you don't like what I have to say, you can throw me out again. I promise I'll go quietly."  
  
"Leave, Granger, I'm very busy."  
  
"Please!" she cried. "Just hear what I have to say. We won't do anything without your leave. I just want you to listen to me."  
  
"I thought you said you were going to go quietly?"  
  
"After you've listened to me!"  
  
His eyes narrowed as he contemplated her through the barrier. "I suppose you will not leave until I have let you have your say?"  
  
She shook her head fiercely.  
  
When she looked back on this later, she wouldn't be able to say what exactly it was that made him do what he was about to do.  
  
"You will stay in my sight the entire time, and not go anywhere near the common room?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
"And the moment I tell you to leave, you will leave?"  
  
She nodded again.  
  
"And you understand that if you are ever lying to me, about anything, I shall know and respond appropriately?"  
  
Another nod.  
  
Snape contemplated her for a moment, then sighed and waved his wand. With a jerk of his head, he invited her in. She hesitantly walked past the spot where the barrier had been (it had knocked her back a good five feet) and followed him into his office.  
  
He sat behind the desk, crossed his arms, and looked at her with great irritation.  
  
"I am a very busy man, Granger, so I hope you will cut to the heart of the matter quickly."  
  
She nodded. "I think we got off on the wrong foot the other day. We came on strong and unannounced and I can't even imagine what you must have thought of us. Well, that's a lie. I can." Her attempt at levity fell with a thud as his face remained expressionless and he just stared at her.  
  
"Right. Well, Harry and I talked about it quite a bit afterward, and we agree, we don't understand the full extent of this problem. We just know that there is one. Our desire to help is genuine, but I think we were putting the cart before the horse here. So I'd like to ask you your permission to make appointments with you to learn about the issues these children face. Everything will be kept completely confidential. And anytime you want me to leave, I will. I have no ulterior motive here; we just want to help. I just want to help."  
  
She thought about elaborating, then felt a faint buzzing in her head as if a Muffliato had been cast. She knew what it was immediately. Legilimency. He was silently performing Legilimency on her, to gauge her true intentions, no doubt. Clever. She thought about occluding him, then decided that it was probably the wrong response, that he would immediately suspect her of hiding something and toss her out before she had a chance to gain his trust. Hermione was good at Occlumency, but probably not good enough to hide it from a master Occlumens. She also knew that he did not know that she possessed the skill.  
  
She decided instead to trust that he would not violate her mind and just skim the surface to gather her motivation and leave it at that. She hoped he wouldn't make her regret the decision. She decided to just focus on her first visit, her conversations with Miss Glastonbury, and her discussions with Harry.  
  
For a long time, neither person spoke or broke eye contact. Finally, seemingly satisfied with what he saw, she felt the buzz disappear. Blinking and looking away, she felt a slight headache. She debated whether she should tell him about it, and therefore call him out on the Legilimency, and decided she could live with the headache.  
  
"You think you know what this project would entail," Snape said slowly. "But you really have no idea the depth of the undertaking or the severity of the problems."  
  
"You're right," Hermione agreed. "I was hoping you could rectify that. Help me and Harry understand."  
  
"Not Potter. He is incapable. Too hotheaded and self-centered to be involved in something like this."  
  
"That's unfair," she said. "You haven't seen or spoken to Harry since he was a teenager. You have projected James Potter onto him." She spoke quickly, knowing she was playing with fire here. "I know him better than just about anyone. You may be good at reading people, but when it comes to Harry you just lose your gift. The war changed him, changed all of us, but if nothing else it made him more cautious, more insightful, and more deliberate in his actions. He doesn't do anything now without really weighing the pros and cons and considering all potential consequences. Not only that, he's married now with a baby on the way. He knows he has big responsibilities on the horizon, and he has taken that into account as well."  
  
He scoffed. "Potter may be grown up, but when you were here I saw the same arrogance that was always there in his youth."  
  
"It's not arrogance—it's the truth. Harry is famous. He has been famous his entire life for surviving after his parents were murdered right in front of him, something that would cause most children to live with hysterics for the rest of their lives. He is probably the most famous person in Wizarding Britain. I think even Muggles are familiar with him. When he picks a cause, people pay attention. He didn't ask for it; he never did.  
  
"This is going to sound ridiculous to you, and you probably don't believe me, but all he has ever wanted is a quiet life and a family. He knows he can have the latter but will never have the former, no matter what else he does for the rest of his life. Ever. He has made peace with that and decided that, so long as this is going to happen, it might as well be on his terms and for the causes he thinks are important."  
  
Snape raised an eyebrow questioningly. "And all those interviews? The so-called 'authorised biographies'?"  
  
Hermione sighed. It was always difficult to explain this to people, and he was the least likely to believe her. "It was clear right after the war that there were going to be books and articles about us whether we liked it or not. If we had declined interviews, declined the books, the likes of Rita Skeeter would have interviewed those 'closest' to us and come up with her own version of events. All three of us have been subject to that before and decided that if we couldn't stop it, we could at least get the true version of what happened out there. Better for it to be something that we approved of than what that Skeeter woman would invent in her head and passed off as the truth, you know? Besides… people should know the truth. And only three of us were there when many things happened. Call it arrogance, call it a desire for fame, call it whatever you want. We have been given many impossible choices and have always tried to take the least painful one. In this case, we thought, and still do think, that this was the least painful option."  
  
Snape said nothing, betrayed no expression, but Hermione could swear that she saw him give the tiniest nod of understanding. Unlike them, he had refused all requests for interviews after his recovery, and the result had been Rita Skeeter's book Snape: Scoundrel or Saint? While he was still revered within the Wizarding world as a hero (to most), the book had done some damage to his reputation. Hermione wondered whether he even cared.  
  
Satisfied that she may not have entirely failed this time, she decided to play her trump card. She knew Snape liked to be, needed to be, in control of the situation, and decided to give it to him. "So there it is; my cards are out on the table here. Harry and I want to help you. Ron… Ron doesn't think he's ready to revisit what this would mean, so he is staying out of it for now at least. So whatever happens would pass just between you, me, and Harry. Only when you give permission would we ever do anything. For now, think of it as information-gathering. All on your terms and at times which are convenient for you and with as little disruption as possible to the children. We're doing this for them, after all."  
  
Sensing that this would probably be a good time to stop talking, she folded her hands in her lap and sat back against the chair. After much deliberation following her last disastrous attempt, she decided that a suddenly Slytherin approach would raise a red flag for Snape and would likely do more harm than good. He already suspected something, clearly; a change in tactic would only confirm that suspicion. Better to play the role she knew best anyway, but be less bull-headed, more submissive. She hoped that it had worked.  
  
She had made her case. She hoped he liked what he heard. He leaned back in his chair and tilted his head up, eyes on the ceiling, contemplating what he had been told.  
  
"Potter will be involved regardless?"  
  
"I'm afraid so. I don't hold the same pull that he does with the right people. People will be more generous with their time and money if he is involved."  
  
Another long few minutes of silence passed before Snape broke it with a slow, deliberate voice, still not looking at her. His expression was still unreadable, and he seemed to choose his words very carefully. "I think perhaps a little education on the subject would be beneficial for you both. Friday next at eight o'clock in the evening, you and Potter will meet me here, and you will both learn the scope of the problem."  
  
Hermione was ecstatic but keep her face and voice calm. "Thank you... Severus? Severus. We will be here. Thank you very much for trusting us. I promise you will not regret it."  
  
He said nothing, rather sat up and turned to the paperwork at his desk. Hermione took this as a sign that the meeting was over. She thought of something, anything, to say to him, but decided that silence was probably best, and left the office without another word. She heard the door slam behind her and felt the slightest push against her back as she passed through where the barrier had been.

* * *

Friday night found both Harry and Hermione in the corridor around the corner from Snape's office. Not wanting to experience the pushback again, or find out what extra might happen if the wards specifically detected Harry, they stood and waited. Unsure of whether Snape would realise their presence without walking into the barrier, Harry decided to send a patronus to him informing him that they were around the corner and ready. Moments later, they heard him call for them to enter and they walked around the corner—into the barrier, falling back five feet into the ground.  
  
Hearing Severus's cruel chuckle, Harry scrambled to his feet and offered his hand to Hermione, pulling her up. Snape was standing there, laughing, then gestured for them to follow him. Scowling, Harry and Hermione followed him.  
  
"We're going to have to do something about your appearance," he announced without preamble. "Both of you."  
  
They nodded. They figured he may have to fix a temporary dark mark to their arms in order to gain the children's trust.  
  
"You are both constantly in the Prophet every time you leave the house, and I promise you that where we will journey tonight, neither of you wants to be recognised. So, if your abysmal transfiguration skills are not so wanting, kindly transfigure yourselves now before we leave."  
  
The two friends shared a quick glance. Snape had not mentioned anything about going anywhere else. Then again, Hermione had not asked. With a sigh, she pointed her wand to Harry's face. The scar disappeared from his forehead. Green eyes turned blue. Black hair turned brown, and a small goatee grew on his face. His glasses (still round, after all these years) turned into thin, rectangular lenses with silver frames. Finally, with an evil grin, she added a few streaks of grey to his hair and crow's feet to the corners of his eyes. Satisfied, she gave him a nod.  
  
Harry responded in kind. His transfiguration skills had always lacked behind Hermione's in school, but his Auror training had more than bridged the gap, and their skills were now comparable. Hermione's hair was cropped short, straight, and blonde. Her eyes were green, her nose a little shorter and more pointed, her lips a little fuller. Harry changed the shape of her eyebrows and made her skin tone slightly more tan. He detached her earlobes and added a small beauty mark (she would consider it a mole) to her left cheek. With a nod, he finished. Both turned to look at Snape expectantly.  
  
Evidently, he was not aware of their improved skills and betrayed a small expression on his face. Was he impressed? Shocked? Satisfied? Hard to tell. At least he wasn't disappointed. But almost immediately his face turned back into the expressionless, dispassionate mask and he only said, "I suppose that will do. If you are recognised, it is your own fault." Without another word, he turned on his heel and walked briskly out, Harry and Hermione scrambling to follow him.  
  
Snape stopped at the landing just outside the front doors. The guard snored loudly at his desk.  
  
"Apparate to Knockturn Alley, just outside Borgin and Burke's," Snape said softly. "We will walk from there." He walked out the door and they heard the crack of Disapparation. With a sigh, they followed, clasped hands, and Apparated together the same way they had for months during the last year of the war.  
  
Snape was waiting for them impatiently in front of Borgin and Burke's, as if they had made him wait a long time. He then turned left and walked quickly down the street.  
  
"Where are we going?" Harry asked him, nervous. Both he and Hermione had their wands out, as was their habit.  
  
"You will see and kindly put away your wands as if you are rushing headfirst into battle," Snape drawled, not breaking his step or turning his head as he spoke. "Potter, surely even you know that if you act like an Auror while undercover it defeats the purpose of that cover. Granger, don't be so jittery. You both know there are far more dangerous places in this world than Knockturn Alley after dark, and you would do well to act accordingly. You are famous war heroes; act like it."  
  
The alley was silent and the only noise they heard was the echo of their footsteps against the buildings. Harry and Hermione replaced their wands in their sleeves, ready at a moment's notice.  
  
"Old habits," Harry mumbled.  
  
They walked a couple of blocks before Snape turned sharply right and stood before what looked like a shack that was half falling-down. Taking his wand out, he tapped it against the door that was falling off its hinges in a deliberate pattern, like one did to enter Diagon Alley. Suddenly the shack transformed into a large, brightly-lit building with red lights in the windows and an age line around the door. Music wafted out into the street. The door was now large and sturdy and decidedly intact.  
  
"Do take care not to blush too much," Snape said and entered the building, Harry and Hermione following close behind.  
  
"Mr. Snape!" cried a fat woman with curly black hair and too much lipstick from behind a counter as soon as they entered. "It is always so nice to see you!" She sounded like she had a slight accent. Maybe Russian. She took Snape's hands in hers as they exchanged kisses on the cheek. "And you have brought friends, I see!"  
  
"Guests visiting from France," he said, jerking his head over his shoulder slightly. "Don't speak a word of English, but wish to have a nice time. Perhaps I may… show them around?"  
  
"But of course!" The old woman gushed. "You know where everyone is. Or if you would just like to watch. And for your friends, no cover charge. Enjoy yourselves." Snape gave her a small bow and swiftly gestured for Harry and Hermione to come with him.  
  
Neither of them were prudes or novices when it came to sex, but they found themselves grasping hands and moving closer together as they walked forward. Snape walked quickly up a staircase and turned down a corridor. Harry and Hermione followed, apprehensive, wondering what in Merlin's name they were doing here. Hermione felt her body tense up as they walked through the building, past the scantily-clad women eyeing them up and down and whispering to each other. Had anyone told her this morning that she would spend the evening with Harry and her former Potions professor in a secret brothel in Knockturn Alley, one where he was apparently known and liked… well, she would have bet against it.  
  
Following Snape down the corridor, they stopped just behind him and he beckoned them to come forward and stand in the doorway. On the bed sat a skinny, sad prostitute. She wore thigh-high boots, a pink mini-skirt that was no wider than a headband, and a black leather bustier. Her make-up was hastily applied and she wore too much of it. Her bleached hair was crackled and dry. She looked forlorn. But as soon as she saw who was in the doorway, her eyes lit up.  
  
"Mr. Snape!" she cried, getting up and running for the door.  
  
 _Oh, no no no,_  Hermione thought.  _Please, he didn't take us here to watch him shag a hooker. Please, please, let that not be what's going on._  
  
 _He knows I'm married!_  Harry thought desperately.  _If Ginny knew he was here…_  
  
They were both relieved and a little surprised to see a moment later that the prostitute threw herself into Snape's arms and he held her in a tender, almost fatherly, manner. After a moment she pulled him inside, and he indicated to Harry and Hermione that they should follow. He closed the door quickly behind them, locked and warded it. He turned back to the prostitute, who had been grinning a moment ago, and was now sobbing on the bed.  
  
Snape sat next to her, put his arm around her. Hermione and Harry were gobsmacked. Snape, comforting a crying prostitute, holding her protectively? They knew he had a great capacity for goodness and love and loyalty, but compassion? Understanding? This was new.  
  
Through her sobs and hiccups they could make out a few words. "Tried to leave… so sorry… disappointed you… couldn't find work anywhere else…" Snape soothed her and held her tight, whispered something in her ear.  
  
For a long time they stood in this tableau; Snape and the prostitute on the bed holding each other, Harry and Hermione standing back against the door, holding hands, bewilderment on their faces.  
  
Finally, the prostitute dried her eyes, took a deep breath, and nodded. Snape gave her a small smile and gestured to his two companions. "May I introduce Miss Valentina Rookwood."  
  
Harry and Hermione's minds went into overdrive simultaneously. Rookwood. Rookwood? Rookwood! Comprehension dawned on them at the same time. Rookwood had been one of Voldemort's most faithful servants. He had been killed in the final battle at Hogwarts. He had had a daughter not old enough to attend Hogwarts. Her. Valentina. This was another Death Eater Orphan. But, Hermione thought, if she was just underage for Hogwarts six years ago, there's no way she could be of age… oh.  
  
Snape wasn't performing Legilimency, as far as she could tell, but apparently he didn't have to in order to know what had been running through their minds. He just nodded. "Won't be but a moment, if you would kindly wait outside." With a wave of his wand he unwarded the door and they left quickly. It slammed behind them as they walked out and caught their breath. Hermione exhaled sharply and fell back against the wall, Harry leaning his hand on the wall next to her to steady himself, facing her.  
  
"He's not… is he?"  
  
Hermione shook her head vigorously. "He wouldn't. Would he? I mean, with us right here in the corridor…?"  
  
"Yeah, I mean, why bring us if all he wants to do is…"  
  
"Right."  
  
They shared a look.  
  
"She can't be more than…" he said.  
  
"Sixteen." Hermione finished. "She cannot be older than sixteen."  
  
"She's one of them," Harry said. "Only she must have dropped out of Hogwarts or run away from the orphanage."  
  
"Or both."  
  
"Did you hear her say something about… something about how she couldn't find work anywhere else?"  
  
Hermione nodded. "It sounds like she's been at this for awhile. Severus obviously has visited her before, or been here before. You don't suppose there are others?" She looked at him worriedly. He shook his head slowly, not to say no, but to say he hoped not.  
  
A couple of prostitutes approached them, rubbing Harry suggestively on the arm, but he vehemently shook his head and took Hermione's arm, leading her toward the stairway. The prostitutes gave up and walked away. A few minutes later, Snape appeared before them.  
  
"Do not trouble yourself about Miss Rookwood; I have paid her enough that she will likely be allowed to go off duty for the rest of the evening. Unfortunately, we are not yet done here."  
  
"Severus!" Harry said sharply, drawing his wand. "Why did you throw us out of the room? What were you doing in there with her?"  
  
Rage flashed in Snape's eyes as he took Harry by the shoulder and pushed him into the wall, wand drawn.  
  
"Do not ever make such insinuations again!" he hissed. "I may be a monster in every other way, but I would never lay a hand on a child, particularly one who has been forced into sexual slavery. If you must know, the presence of you and your friend was causing her considerable distress and so I thought it best if you waited outside." He released Harry and pulled away, glaring at Hermione. "And you?"  
  
Hermione shook her head. Snape was right; he was a right bastard who had done many evil things in his life, but he was right—he would never do that, least of all with the two of them there to bear witness.  
  
"If there are no other accusations," he said, glaring at Harry, "we will continue."  
  
He led them up another staircase and down another corridor. He stopped, this time behind a door that was closed. Casting a nonverbal Muffliato, he pointed his wand at the door and opened it very slowly, only a crack. Putting his finger to his lips, he moved away from the door and gestured for them to come peek through the crack. Hermione shook her head, no, but Snape's look intensified and she complied. Harry stood close behind her, since he was tall enough to look over her head.  
  
The scene was horrible. There was no sex going on in the room, just violence. A large man was beating a young woman who could not have been much older than Miss Rookwood. He was slapping her and kicking her and spitting on her. He screamed insults at her. "Death Eater whore!" he screamed. "A fucking Death Eater whore. You love violence, don't you? You love pain, don't you?" He kicked her again. "Say you like it, whore!"  
  
The woman—girl, really—simply nodded and slurred, "Yes, yes, I love it!" But everyone could see she was sobbing. The man jerked her up, hurled her onto the bed, and ripped off her clothes. He slapped her, and then began to—oh God, no. Hermione couldn't watch this. Didn't want to listen. Did not want to stand here while a teenage girl was raped for sickles. She closed her eyes and buried her face in Harry's chest, her hands clinging to his shoulders. His arms were around her protectively, shielding her from the sight.  
  
"Don't look," Harry whispered. "Don't look." He looked over her shoulder at Snape, horrified. "Severus—what the fuck is this?"  
  
"This is Brigita Rosier. This," Snape said quietly. "Is what we just spared Miss Rookwood."  
  
"Well I'm going to put a stop to this." He made a move to enter the room.  
  
Severus grabbed Harry by the arm and violently jerked him back into the hallway, causing Hermione to fall out of his arms and grasp the wall for support. "Idiot! Do you have any idea what will happen to her if we do intervene? The guard downstairs, the large, burly, violent, male one you didn't see, will be up here immediately. He will beat you and beat her. And then let that lovely customer beat her some more."  
  
"But I can't just stand here and—"  
  
"Not save the day? I know it must be hard for you, Potter, but you wanted to learn what you would be dealing with, this is it." Without another word, he shut the door, pushed Harry in front of him, and grabbed Hermione. He spoke again once they had reached the end of the corridor, taking refuge in a dark corner. "Brigita Rosier is only fourteen years old. She should be in her fourth year of Hogwarts right now, and instead she spends her days and nights here. She has a sister and a brother back at the orphanage who do not need to know about this. I can show you more. Much more. I can take you upstairs and show you Clarissa Runcorn—they pay extra for bondage with her. Tie her wrists so tight they bleed while they fuck her. Or Lucinda Gibbon, who they advertise as being so tight she squeaks, so she attracts customers who will pay extra to fuck a twelve year old girl. Or Zenobia Yaxley, who performs on the stage downstairs whatever vulgar act the audience demands of her, including penetration with foreign objects by paying customers. She learned the hard way what happens when she refuses a request." He paused for effect then sneered, grabbing Hermione by the shoulders and shaking her. "Have you seen enough?"  
  
Hermione had seen plenty. She pushed through both Snape and Harry and bolted down the corridor, down both staircases, and out the front door. She ran too fast to register what the fat Russian Madam called out to her as she slammed the door. She only knew she had to get outside. Outside. Fresh air. Forget the smell of sex and alcohol and perfume and blood and fear and anger that had overwhelmed her inside.  
  
She reached the alley, ducked around the side of the building, and began to vomit, choking on sobs at the same time. She retched until she had emptied the contents of her stomach and was just conjuring up bile. She was shaking and sobbing so hard that she couldn't focus enough to cast cleaning charms.  
  
It had all come flooding back—Malfoy Manor. Bellatrix Lestrange torturing her. Offering her to Fenrir Greyback. Greyback would not just bite her, oh no. He would save that for later. There were other… animalistic tendencies in which he would indulge first. His reputation had been notorious. Hermione remembered the feeling of his breath on her skin, how he had stroked his filthy hand through her hair, how he had whispered in her ear that he could not wait to know how she tasted. She knew just how close she had come to being in the same position as that poor girl upstairs. She had not thought of it in years; what little Occlumency skills she possessed had banished it from her thoughts, forced her to feel nothing. But seeing that upstairs… it was too much.  
  
Suddenly the puddle of sick before her vanished and she felt a familiar hand rub her back in a soothing manner. Harry. He helped her up and pulled her into his arms, where she sobbed some more. He tightened his arms around her as he had so many times before.  
  
"Severus," he hissed over her shoulder. "What the fuck was that all about? You know, you could have just told us."  
  
"I could have, but the impact would have been lost. And what is the matter with you anyway, Granger? So delicate? You've been through a war. Surely you've seen worse than that."  
  
Hermione shook her head against Harry's chest, and through shuddering breaths replied, "No. Not like that. Never like that." Almost, but not quite.  
  
"Now you understand, then," Snape said gravely. "This is what has happened to nearly every girl who has been in my charge for the past five years who has reached sexual maturity. What every Death Eater Daughter has become. A whore. Only it's not sex—it's violence. The customers pay extra for it. It's advertised, for Merlin's sake. I could not stop them. I could not stop this. The girls, they don't seek it out. But they leave the orphanage, usually underage because they have also left Hogwarts, usually by the end of their third year due to the harassment and fights and sexual taunts that inevitably follow, and they try to find work. Employers see their surnames and throw them out. They come here out of desperation. And the saddest thing…" Snape paused and took a breath. Burying emotion. "The saddest thing is that not long after they arrive here, they begin to believe they deserve it. That this is all they are good for." He stopped talking, crossed his arms, and looked away.  
  
Harry and Hermione were still holding each other. Hermione had since calmed down and composed herself, but was still breathing heavily.  
  
"If you cannot handle this," Snape said, "you have no business with me or the children in this orphanage. You have no business trying to help them. If you cannot handle what it is to live in their hell, you had best leave it alone."  
  
He started to storm away. Harry glanced down at Hermione. "Alright?" He whispered. She nodded. "So am I," he said. They nodded at each other, understanding. He let go of her and they stood side-by-side, facing Snape's retreating back.  
  
"Severus," Hermione called. He stopped and turned around. "If your plan was to scare us away, it failed. Now, more than ever, we want to help. Not just those in the orphanage full-time now, not just those who are at Hogwarts, but all of them." Her voice was confident now, assured.  
  
He considered her. "It's more than just this, Granger," he said. "The boys typically drop out earlier than the girls, they join street gangs or commit petty crimes to support themselves. Most spend at least a little time in Azkaban. Dementors are still there, despite what the Ministry is willing to admit publicly. Guards give them trouble. They have to stay in solitary confinement for their own protection, since other inmates are usually keen to take their revenge, too. Sometimes they see their parents, after they've been Kissed.  
  
"Most of them don't make it past their third year of Hogwarts, those of either gender. Horace doesn't deign to reach out to his students who are from less desirable families, and the Sorting Hat seems to categorically refuse to put them into other houses. Fellow Slytherins resent them for the damage done to the House's reputation. I won't even begin to tell you what the students in other Houses do. Suffice it to say, they are usually well-versed in the ways of sex and violence by the time they leave school, courtesy of those in other Houses as well as their own.  
  
"I tell them to keep their heads down and their mouths shut, to be on the defensive, to be alert, but trouble seems to find them no matter what. Minerva, give her credit, tries to stop things when she knows about them, but they often suffer in silence and leave rather than go to an authority figure, because frankly they do not trust any of them.  
  
"Now I just gave you a taste of all of this, Granger, and you made yourself sick. Potter looks like he's been petrified. Now I ask you both this question and expect an honest answer: Do you honestly, truly, believe you can handle this?"  
  
Hermione knew this would be difficult. Painful. Potentially harmful to her career. Might cost her friends. Would ruin her reputation in decent Wizarding society. And yet despite knowing all of this, Hermione had never been more sure of anything in her life.  
  
"Absolutely," she replied. She turned to her friend. "Harry?"  
  
Harry nodded. "I did not do what I did in the war to create a world where it was acceptable for wizards to do this to innocent children. I'm in. All the way."  
  
Snape looked at them with a resigned look in his face. Clearly he had hoped they would leave after this, leave him and the orphans alone. Instead, he shook his head and said, "Very well." His voice dripped with resignation and desperation. Perhaps he was already stretched to his limit.  
  
As he led them back to the apparition point outside Borgin and Burke's, they could hear him mutter, "Bloody fucking Gryffindors."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Coming up: Harry makes Severus an offer he can't refuse... even though he really, really wants to.


	5. Philanthropic Gestures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus shook his head. Here he was at three o'clock in the morning drunk off firewhiskey and listening to his brain war with himself with him agreeing and disagreeing. This was absurd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, do you ever say, "I'll be back in a couple of days with a new chapter" and then you look up and six weeks pass? No, just me? Sorry for that.

Harry Potter couldn't sleep. Not that night. Not after all he had seen. And he had seen things in the war. But this… wow.  
  
He snuggled up close against Ginny's back, breathing in the scent of her hair. It still smelled like flowers after all these years. He inhaled deeply again, taking it all in. He snaked his arm across her ever-growing belly (seven weeks to go, bloody hell) and rubbed it slowly. His son was sleeping, and Harry didn't want to wake him, so he just let his hand rest gently on his wife's belly. Kissed her temple. Sighed.  
  
No, he did not want his son growing up in a world that allowed things like this to happen to innocent children. That was not what he fought and nearly died for in the war. This wasn't the world he and his friends worked to build. But for fate and some dumb luck Harry had wound up on the right side of history. The victors. The oppressors. He was well aware of how easily, so very easily, he and his family could have ended up like those children. How close they had come, in the end. How close they had come to being imprisoned. Beaten. Raped. Used. Forgotten. It wasn't right that these children were subjected to it. And it would stop if he had anything to say about it.

* * *

The House-Elf Bill of Rights had felt like such a victory. No longer would they have to do things like iron their hands or beat themselves in the face with hammers if they disobeyed their masters. Hermione had congratulated herself for that, feeling like she had the moral high ground.

  
And then she learned how she worked for a society that oppressed children and robbed them of their humanity, and she felt her heart sink.  
  
She lay in the first floor guest room at Grimmauld Place. She hadn't wanted to go home after that. Didn't think she could Apparate without splinching herself. Harry had agreed wholeheartedly. They had transfigured themselves back into, well, themselves, reiterated their determination. Then told Ginny everything. She was horrified at what they had seen, but not that they had gone. This was Ginny Weasley Potter, only daughter in a home with six older brothers, all of whom had been in the Order of the Phoenix. Married to the Boy Who Lived. It took a lot to shock her. Plus, she trusted Harry implicitly and with good reason.  
  
Hermione sighed. She didn't know what Snape thought he was playing at. He had dared them to watch, dared them to commit to this in the face of unimaginable brutality.  
  
She shook her head. Didn't he know, after all these years, to never dare a Gryffindor?  
  
She and Harry had become more determined than ever to help, now that they had seen just a sliver of the reality. They would go back for more. They had refused to leave until Snape agreed to a meeting the following week. They would learn more, talk more. He promised to be honest with them in exchange for their promise to be discreet. Few people knew of his work and he wanted to keep it that way. Hermione would come in under the guise of her audit. Harry under the cloak.  
  
Hermione couldn't help but smile to herself. Of all the things she had undertaken, she felt least sure about this one. Yes, she had even felt more secure that she and her two best friends, only teenagers, would be able to hunt down and destroy all the Horcruxes, break into Gringotts, and kill Voldemort. That had felt more sure than this. But that only made her want it more. And she couldn't help but smile.

* * *

Ron slept fitfully. After what Harry and Hermione had told him, he knew he couldn't help them. Not yet. The children of the people who killed Fred… and Remus... and Sirius... and Tonks... and Lavender... no.  
  
He wouldn't admit to himself that he thought they deserved it, but didn't want to take the risk that he would share that thought anyway.  
  
He knew it was the right decision, sitting this one out.  
  
So why did he feel so rotten?

* * *

_Fuck._  
  
Severus sat in his office, staring into the fire off to one side, glass of Firewhisky in his hand, bottle of Firewhisky on his desk. Well, half a bottle now. Maybe a bit less than half. He would not sleep tonight. He was not sure he could. He was not sure he wanted to.  
  
Typical Gryffindors had followed him into that horrible place, where he went every Saturday night to check on the girls. It broke his heart every time he was there. For every girl he could give money to so they could retire for the evening. For every girl already engaged when he arrived. He regretted that he could not get them out of that place. He had nowhere to put them. No way to support them. Hogwarts would not take them. Neither would the Ministry, not even in one of its glorified job-creation programs. The Ministry wouldn't let them back into the orphanage. And so they stayed.  
  
He had sold his parents' home on Spinner's End years ago to help support these kids. To buy them their robes for school. To bail them out of Azkaban. To buy a teenaged prostitute a night of freedom. He had enough at his disposal to continue doing it for awhile; he slept in his office (what Glastonbury didn't know wouldn't hurt her) and had no other real expenses. But even if he could continue, it would never be enough.  
  
The whole bloody thing made him feel powerless, and Severus Snape did not like to feel powerless. He felt like Sisyphus—push the boulder up the hill, watch it roll down, repeat forever. Every time he thought that he had saved, really saved, one of them, it would be the same story over again. Drugs. Prostitution. An unwanted pregnancy he had to brew a potion for. Crime. Violence.  
  
And now those fucking Gryffindors wanted to be involved. Had called his bluff. Followed him in. Stomached (well, not Granger) what they saw. It had not scared them off but rather made them more determined than they had been before. Fuck. The whole bloody thing had blown up in his face.  
  
A part of him, the part he never wanted to listen to, told him that this might not be such a bad thing. He was only one man and could not hope to save them all by himself. In fact, he had not been able to save anyone by himself. With the two celebrities (oh, bloody hell) involved, they might be able to do something. At least they wouldn't make things worse.  
  
 _Or would they,_  said the voice in the back of his mind, the voice he couldn't help but listen to.  _They would draw negative publicity. They could further damage the children. Expose them to scrutiny that you would otherwise be able to shield them from for just a few more precious years._  
  
 _Good point, Severus thought._  
  
 _Shield them in a dungeon,_  pointed out the voice.  _Keep them locked away deep underground. Because it worked so well for you all those years, didn't it? Made you into a real model citizen, didn't it?_  
  
 _Can't argue with that,_  Severus conceded.  
  
Severus shook his head. Here he was at three o'clock in the morning drunk off Firewhisky and listening to his brain war with himself with him agreeing and disagreeing. This was absurd. And for whatever reason—the hour, the Firewhisky, the events that had transpired—he decided to let Granger and Potter win. He would let the Gryffindors in. But if they so much as stepped one toe out of line, it was over. He would Obliviate them and send them away and set up wards not even Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt himself could break through.

* * *

"The biggest hurdle," Severus lectured in his best professor voice, "is that these children learn very early on in life that they have no future. The moment they step onto the Hogwarts Express, they are targeted. It's already an overwhelming experience for them, having been kept away in here for most of their lives, and the other children are… merciless."  
  
Granger and Potter nodded. "And it doesn't get much better afterward, does it?" Potter asked. "You mentioned that most of them don't make it past their third year."  
  
Severus nodded. "Correct. It is abysmal. They are beaten, ridiculed, bullied… Potter, it makes what your father and his gang used to do to me look like camaraderie." Potter stiffened at this. Good. "Their Head of House turns a blind eye, Minerva doesn't know about it, and the other professors really cannot be bothered to intervene. The prejudice runs deep."  
  
"What about Madam Pomfrey?" asked Potter. Severus shifted uncomfortably at the sound of her name. "Doesn't she help them when they are injured? Surely she notices and does something about it?"  
  
Severus shook his head. "They trust no one. Not even her; she is an authority figure, and they learn very quickly that such figures are untrustworthy. Whatever injuries they receive, they tend to themselves."  
  
"It's too bad they have no authority figure they can trust. Have you thought about going back?" Granger asked. "If you were Head of House again…"  
  
"Granger, use that much-lauded brain of yours, will you? Yes, I could protect them. I do not believe I could stop everything from happening, but I know I could stop the worst of it, or at least ensure that the guilty parties are adequately punished. I know this because I did it after the first war, for the children of those Death Eaters." He sighed. "Unfortunately, this time around, Hogwarts will not have me back. And in truth, I do not wish to go back. I think I am more needed here."  
  
"But if you could be back at Hogwarts, you could get them through their years there. Could at least help them graduate. Here, you do what you can, turn them loose in school, and—"  
  
"And make myself available for the youngest ones, who literally have no one else. The Ministry has designated Glastonbury the emergency contact at Hogwarts for them. I am in no position to know what happens. I am entitled to no explanation. I had two choices: I could help those at Hogwarts, or help the ones here. I triaged the situation as best I could and made the closest thing I could to the right decision. Doing this allows me to stay here with these children, these defenceless children, and I will not abandon them. I will not let Glastonbury loose on these children."  
  
Granger glared at him. Severus glared back. "It's not ideal, Granger, I admit that. But it is the very best I could do. Look me in the eye, and tell me that you think I am doing anything less."  
  
That shut her up.  
  
"It seems," Potter said thoughtfully. "That their names are the biggest handicap. If they simply had different names, they might stand a chance."  
  
"Minors cannot petition for name changes without a guardian, and if minors are wards of the Ministry, the Ministry cannot so petition," Granger replied, no doubt reciting something from some Wizarding legal text she had back at her office. Know-it-all.  
  
"If Glastonbury is their legal guardian for purpose of Hogwarts, why couldn't Severus be one for purposes of petitioning on their behalf in a court to change their names?" Potter replied.  
  
"I am not their legal guardian, Potter. I am more of what you might call a Muggle social worker. I monitor their progress, but consider me, if you will, a point of contact. A legal guardian, on the other hand, has authority to make all sorts of decisions for a child. I have no such authority."  
  
Granger bit her lip in thought. "Maybe we could get you that authority."  
  
Severus gave her his best please-don't-tell-me-you're-actually-that-stupid look in reply.  
  
"I mean you could get a place, we could find you a place, and then you could continue all the things you do now. But in a real house. With windows and lights and everything. And you could continue to do this, but not under the guise of the Ministry. On your own terms."  
  
"Ah, so Granger you would have me, what, adopt the fifteen children currently here full-time as well as the other fifteen or so who have since run away or dropped out? You would have me support that many children on my own? You would have me be called, what, Papa Snape, and I could preside over this large, happy family? My God, Granger, sometimes I wonder if I was wrong about you."  
  
"That I'm an insufferable know-it-all?" She asked with a bored voice.  
  
"That you were actually an intelligent person," Severus retorted. He did not realise that she interpreted it as a compliment. That she and Potter shared a look after he said it. He missed all that.  
  
"Well I think we can all agree that institutionalising them has been one giant disaster," Granger said. "And no one else in the Wizarding population is willing to adopt them."  
  
"Not even you two? For all your talk of saving them I hear nothing of you planning to adopt them yourselves."  
  
Granger sighed exasperatedly as if she were talking to Weasley instead of him. "I can't adopt anyone, Severus, I'm a single woman. It's not allowed. Only married couples."  
  
"Without children," Potter added. "Married couples with children are excluded, at least for now. Unless the children to be adopted are relations."  
  
"So there you go—I can't adopt either, I'm a single man," Severus retorted. "What a fantastic waste of time that idea was."  
  
"Hermione could get the law changed," Potter said. "She got a bunch of house-elf rights laws passed right after Hogwarts. That's a population no one cares about but her. If she could push that through, she can push this through."  
  
Granger snorted. "Right, I'll just march right up to the Wizengamot and tell them how this law needs to change, and they'll just step up and do it." She rolled her eyes. "Harry, you remember how long it took to get that law passed. Years. Years of lobbying. Many of the wizards on the Wizengamot had house-elves, weren't prejudiced against them in any way, but were also afraid to change the status quo. In this case, you'd have the same problem only bigger—many of them lost family to the Death Eaters; they will be afraid to change an old law, and on top of it yes, they are all going to be biased against them. And with good reason, too."  
  
"Fine!" Potter said exasperatedly. "I guess the only solution is for you to marry Severus here and adopt them together!"  
  
He and Granger laughed hard at this suggestion. Severus did not.  
  
"Right, problem solved!" Granger said through her laughter, wiping away a tear.  
  
"If you two are quite through being idiots for the morning," Severus drawled, exaggerating the irritation and hiding the amusement in his voice. Potter and Granger stopped laughing and looked up him. After all these years, he could still command them with that voice. "I think adoptions are out of the question."  
  
"Moving away from that, though not completely, is it possible for someone to just be a legal guardian?" Potter asked. He turned to Granger, who shrugged her shoulders.  
  
"I've never heard of it, but that doesn't necessarily mean it's not possible. They still might have to live here; it would just give an outside person the right to make their legal decisions, rather than the Ministry."  
  
"Would it change anything about their situation?" He turned to Severus now to ask this question.  
  
Severus thought for a moment before responding. "If I had the legal right to make certain decisions for them, I could get them out of here."  
  
"Would that have any impact?"  
  
"It might. I could at least get them away from the Ministry. I could get their surnames legally changed, try to do that quietly without attracting the attention of the Prophet. Anything less than that would completely defeat the purpose. Then they would need to get away from London."  
  
"Sort of like a witness relocation program?" Granger said. Both men looked at her quizzically. "I read about it, in Muggle America if a person turns witness against a dangerous criminal they will often change their names, change their appearance, and move them to a different part of the country to keep them safe from retribution."  
  
"Well, whatever you want to call it, that might give these kids a fighting chance, wouldn't it?" Potter asked eagerly.  
  
"I can look into it. I've got some books back in my office. No one will notice I've taken them."  
  
Severus smirked. Typical Granger.  
  
"And just where," Severus said, "would you suggest we do this? I don't have space for fifteen minors. Or the funds to do this."  
  
"Ah, but that's where I come in," Potter said happily. "If we have a fundraiser, as a guardian you would be entitled to receive many of the funds. Families who currently have money from prior fundraisers received funds proportional to the number of children they took in. Most only took in one or two or maybe a sibling group of three, according to Hermione, anyway. And we can find you space to do this. Hire people to come out to help you. I mean, getting out of this dungeon alone will make them feel more human, won't it?"  
  
Severus knew the truth of that statement more than Potter would ever know. Which was why he had retreated to the dungeons almost as soon as he had been free of them. Again.  
  
"And, while I haven't spoken with them yet, with your leave I think I can think of a few other volunteers, proper volunteers, who would be willing to help. Who know where we're coming from and understand the situation."  
  
"What—your little 'dueling club'?" Severus asked with a sneer.  
  
"Dumbledore's Army is what it was called, and yes, some of them. Many of them lost their families in the war. It's possible a few could be willing."  
  
"You know, I think this is an awful lot for us to digest," Granger said suddenly. "Severus, why don't I go do some research and Harry will do some as well and we'll come back next week?"  
  
Severus nodded. "Next week then, same time." Granger and Potter offered their hands but Severus only stared back at them. Such familiarity from these two. Was it impossible for them to keep it professional?

* * *

"We were too bloody optimistic again, weren't we?" Harry asked as they stepped toward the front door leading out to the street.  
  
Hermione nodded. "Quite. Thought we'd best quit while we were ahead. Leave before he had a chance to get angry about something, force him to consider it."  
  
"Well played, Miss Granger."  
  
"Not bad yourself, Mr. Potter. I think we might have even made some headway. He didn't immediately throw out the idea of becoming legal guardian to them. When it comes to Snape, I take it as acquiescence."  
  
"You may be right; he didn't even find a way to insult me. And he always finds a way to tie in an insult to me."  
  
"Besides, I really do need to research. In the Muggle world, it was actually quite common for centuries in Britain, for one person (usually a wealthy man) to have wards and heirs who weren't his blood relatives. Perhaps the Wizarding world has a similar process we could look into."

* * *

"I've got it!" Hermione slammed down the heavy leather tome happily on Snape's desk. He jumped with shock.  
  
She and Harry looked down at him, beaming, while he looked up, scowling. Clearly he was not thrilled about their little pop-in. Especially more than two weeks since they had last met with him.  
  
"Do I need to fix my security charms again?" He asked sharply. He had relented and modified his security measures to let her and Harry through the barrier. Reluctantly, Hermione was sure. He seemed to enjoy knocking them flat on their arses every opportunity he could get.  
  
"Not at all. Here, look at this," Hermione flipped through to the right page and turned it around so Snape could read it. "Unmarried, single people can become legal guardians for orphans under Wizarding law. No adoption is necessary, merely control over legal affairs. They can live here or with you. You can petition on their behalf for just about anything. And there is no limit on how many you can do this for."  
  
"Brilliant, Hermione is, eh, Severus?" Harry asked proudly.  
  
Snape just stared back at them, blankly. Expressionless. Hermione knew from experience that this could be very good or very bad.  
  
After a long time he gestured for them to sit down and he spoke. "To my chagrin, you have both shown a remarkable willingness to help some very needy children, and I cannot help but give you both my esteem for that.  
  
"You both, no doubt, know that I am a man who does not make promises lightly, and I only do so if I am confident that I can fulfill them. These children have very specific needs. They do need what you are offering. But at this point I am hesitant to accept because of a few obstacles you have not addressed.  
  
"If I do this, I will be leaving this job. If I fail, the children will be back here and without me. I cannot risk that.  
  
"You have not proposed a place to house these children or how to fund their cost of living.  
  
"Both of you have jobs. Reputable caretakers, counselors, healers… they refuse to come here. How do you propose addressing those needs?"  
  
He stopped and looked at them. Well, at least he hadn't yelled at them or insulted them. He hadn't exactly said no. Progress.  
  
Hermione smiled politely while Harry's eyes lit up in inspiration.  
  
"You remember Grimmauld Place?" Harry asked. Snape's eyes flickered. "Of course you do. Well, I live there currently with my wife. We're due to have a baby in a few weeks. We've been staying there because it's unplottable and still protected by the Fidelius Charm. Most of the secret keepers are… well, anyway, it's very secure. Yes, it's in the middle of London, but it is very difficult to find. Ginny and I think it's too big for us, and I've never loved living there, but only because of my memories. There's nothing inherently wrong with it. We managed to finally get rid of Mrs. Black's portrait… and if you put two children in each bedroom…" He trailed off, waiting for Snape to interrupt him and tell him how idiotic his plan was. When it didn't happen, he continued. "Anyway, I believe in this cause, and I would be happy to donate the house to it."

* * *

Severus couldn't believe his ears. Potter was offering him his house? His large, spacious London house? For the children of the people who tried to kill him.  
  
Potter could be too fucking noble sometimes.  
  
"You are going to move out and give up your house… just like that?" Severus repeated slowly.  
  
Potter nodded with a fucking grin on his face. "You're welcome to come over and check it out before you decide. Anytime, really. We'd love to have you over. And Hermione will be there, of course. Practically lives there anyway." Potter cleared his throat. Severus wondered why he had singled out Granger as an enticement for him to come over.  
  
"If you do want to have a look at the house, there are a few other people I'd like to speak with and bring over to meet with you, but only if you're amenable to it," Granger said. "To help you, that is. Neville Longbottom, for one. Now I know," she added quickly, seeing the look on Severus's face. "I know that you don't think much of him. But don't forget, he too lost parents in the last war. What happened to his parents is no different, really, than what happened to the children whose parents were Kissed. I know him; he will probably want to help. He's got a fairly full schedule at Hogwarts, but as he's not a Head of House, he can probably give some of his afternoons or weekends. He's become a very good teacher; he could shoulder some of that responsibility from you, free you up for other things."  
  
"And Luna Lovegood," said Potter. "I know she's a bit… well, you know, but she is also tremendously insightful and has a knack for getting at the heart of the matter. I think she could get some of the kids to talk, or at least figure out what they need. She lost her mother very young, and her father never made it out alive from the war. She also knows what it feels like to be ostracised by her peers and what it's like to spend years in isolation at Hogwarts. If you can't get a proper counselor in there, she's definitely the next best thing. Plus, she's a Ravenclaw."  
  
 _One less Gryffindor, thank God._  
  
"We haven't spoken with them yet," Granger added quickly. "But we know them both well enough to know that they would likely jump at the chance to help you. And we know what you need."  
  
They looked at him with such earnest hope in their eyes.  
  
"Haven't the two of you played world saviour enough in your little lives?" Severus spat. "Is it not enough that you have the admiration of the entire Wizarding world, you now have to turn these children into a pet project?"  
  
"This is not some pet project!" Granger snapped. "We understand this is a commitment. Commitment is something the two of us happen to understand better than most."  
  
"Trudging through the woods and sleeping in a tent, with no contact with the outside world whatsoever, to destroy Horcruxes when we didn't know where they were, how to destroy them, or even what all of them were, until we had found and destroyed them all," said Potter.  
  
"Working for ten years to liberate house-elves in the face of everyone, even my best friends, saying it could never be done."  
  
"Skipping out on your last year of school," added Severus.  
  
"To defeat Voldemort and ensure that future generations could attend their seventh year of school, regardless of blood status or family name," Potter snapped. "We gave up a lot to do that. And we're both willing to give up a lot to do this."  
  
"No matter how long it takes," added Granger. "Severus, we know you don't like us. We're Gryffindors and were thorns in your side for seven years. We set you on fire, stole from you, stunned you into a wall, insulted you to your face and behind your back… among other things. That's fine. You don't have to like us. But put aside your own animosity toward us and think of them," she gestured behind her to the corridor that led to the common room.  
  
Severus slammed his fist on his desk and stood up to tower over them. "Are you suggesting that I am not considering their needs first, Granger?"  
  
She stood up stiffly, trying to meet his eye but still having to tilt her head up to do it. "I am suggesting that perhaps you are considering rejecting the best offer these children will receive in a long time because of some old grudges and misconceptions from a very long time ago."  
  
Silence turned into a staring contest. Finally, Granger conceded and said, "Come on, Harry. Severus, our offer remains open. Contact us when you have made your decision."  
  
Without another word, she grabbed Potter by the arm and led him outside.

* * *

"Infuriating man!" Hermione cried as soon as they were back at Grimmauld Place. "Can't let go of his stupid grudges for the sake of some very needy children. Can't accept after all these years that you are not your father." She stopped her foot and made an exasperated noise.  
  
"Maybe he just needs some more time to come around to it," Harry suggested.  
  
"I don't doubt that he does, and he should think about it anyway, but does he have to be so intransigent for these reasons? After everything that has happened, after all the time that has passed?"  
  
"Maybe it was a bit much, me offering Grimmauld Place like that," Harry pondered.  
  
"Yeah, what was that all about? I didn't know that you were planning to do that."  
  
Harry shrugged. "Dunno. He brought up some good points about housing and such. I really don't like living here. It would be big enough for his needs, and…"  
  
"And?"  
  
"I owe it to him, for one. I owe him much more than a house, that is. Because of him I was able to survive, find the sword, destroy the Horcruxes. Because of him I lived and was able to have a family, something he really hasn't ever had himself. I know, it was impulsive and not thought-out, and I haven't even spoken to Ginny about it, and it probably put him off. At best he probably thinks I'm 'nauseatingly naïve and imbecilic' or something like that, and at worst he probably suspects me of having ulterior motives."  
  
"Why he could still think that of you is so far beyond me I can't even understand," Hermione said with exasperation.  
  
"We've never exactly given him a reason to trust us," Harry pointed out. "Or to like us. Even though we were all on the same side, we were pretty much enemies."  
  
Hermione nodded. "Yeah, I mean, imagine Draco Malfoy showing up and offering you free reign over Malfoy Manor. Would you jump at the chance?"  
  
"Thank you," Harry said sarcastically.  
  
"For what?"  
  
"Comparing me to Malfoy."  
  
"Oh come off it, you know what I meant."  
  
Harry patted her shoulder and gave it a squeeze. Suddenly they heard a tap on the window behind them and they both spun around, drawing their wands. Seeing it was an owl, they sheathed their weapons and Harry went over to the window to take the scroll from the owl. He unrolled it, smiled, and handed it to Hermione.  
  
It was unsigned, but there was no question it was from him. She recognised the spiky handwriting from the margins of an old potions text, and the message was short and to the point, like the man who wrote it.  
  
 _I accept._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: A little on the lighter side, yes?
> 
> Hermione began her house-elf crusade in their fourth year, when she was about fourteen or fifteen. She's now about twenty-four or twenty-five in this fic, so that's where the ten years came from.
> 
> Sisyphus is a character from Greek mythology condemned to roll a boulder up a hill for eternity. Every time he managed to do so, it would slide back down the hill and he would have to start over.
> 
> Coming up: Severus visits Grimmauld Place, but does he trust what he finds there?


	6. Acceptance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He looked at her again. Their eyes met, for only a moment. Hermione was struck by just how…deep they were. She could read something in them, something faint and fleeting. They seemed to say, You get it.

It was positively unnerving to Severus that, try as he might, he couldn't seem to truly intimidate or scare Granger and Potter anymore. Whenever he tried, they at best looked mildly offended and at worst looked amused.  
  
But after denial comes anger, and after anger comes depression, and after depression comes bargaining, and after bargaining comes acceptance.  
  
Severus really, really hadn't wanted to accept. Did not want to be beholden to anyone, ever, especially Potter. He hated himself for accepting it. Told himself it wasn't really for him, not a gift to him, but for the children, and they really needed it.  
  
 _For the greater good,_  Albus would have said.  
  
Severus couldn't help but think of another expression that typically came to mind whenever he thought of Albus Dumbledore.  
  
 _The road to Hell is paved with good intentions._  
  
Gryffindors. Cannot help but try to save the world. Even if it means ruining it in the process.  
  
With briefest hesitation he had tied the scroll to the owl and sent it on its way. This wouldn't be the first time he made a deal with the devil to satisfy a higher calling. Perhaps it would finally be the last.  
  
\-----------------  
  
Ginny had been thrilled at the prospect of leaving Grimmauld Place; as soon as Harry had got the words out of his mouth, Ginny's hand was on his and she was pulling him out of the door to go house hunting.  
  
"Severus is coming over to look at the house, though," he had protested to Ginny.  
  
"Oh… right. Even better. I support what you're doing, but I don't think I'm quite ready to face him yet. Especially given how hard I worked against him that last year of the war. And, well, I really want out of this house. Come on."  
  
Harry laughed. "I guess I can ask Hermione to show him around." A quick exchange of letters confirmed that Hermione would be happy to show Snape around the house and answer any questions.  
  
"If we miss him," Ginny said as they left that night, "give him our best."  
  
"You know he'll be glad to hear it," Hermione said sarcastically. With a couple of kisses and hugs, the Potters left.  
  
Hermione answered the door at Severus's knock and caught the briefest glimpse of surprise in his eyes when he saw her. "Granger," he said brusquely.  
  
"Severus." She stood back and opened the door wider. He crossed the threshold quickly. "And please call me Hermione."  
  
He did not respond to her but merely stopped short just inside the doorway, taking in the view. It had been close to ten years since he had last been in here, Hermione reckoned. He tilted his head all around, taking in all the changes that had occurred since then.  
  
"It looks very different in here," he said at last.  
  
She nodded. "Ginny thought it would be more livable if it were redecorated—lighter walls, wider corridors, brighter colours, electric lights, no mounted heads of decapitated house-elves, you get the idea."  
  
"Indeed," he mused. "I might have to transfigure the walls darker and the lights dimmer, for a little while at least. Light… well, they're not used to it."  
  
Hermione nodded, sadly. She wanted to ask more, but decided against it. "Shall I lead you around? I know you've been here many times before, but Harry and Ginny did make quite a few changes and you might want to be sure it'll suit your purposes."  
  
Snape nodded absently and walked slowly throughout the house. There were just as many bedrooms as there had been in the past (nine) and just as many bathrooms (four). The attic was still pretty useless but, as Hermione pointed out, could easily be transfigured into something if necessary—living space, a classroom, an infirmary, whatever. Same with the cellar.  
  
"Granger, you might have gone into home sales," Snape finally said wryly. "You are doing your best to sell this place to me."  
  
"I just… I think it has real potential."  
  
"It does," he said simply, then raised an eyebrow to her. "Potter really doesn't want it anymore?"  
  
Hermione shook her head and began to recite the story she and Harry had agreed upon. The both knew it would be a bad idea to tell him the real reason Harry had offered the house. He would reject both it and them if he knew. She just hoped that she could lie well enough to fool him, fully prepared to Occlude him if necessary.  
  
"Their family is growing, Harry has some unpleasant memories here, Ginny doesn't really like it. They could sell it, but they don't really want anyone knowing about the location and they certainly don't need the money. And, well, I think he would feel like he was betraying Sirius if he sold it to a stranger."  
  
Snape flinched at the sound of Sirius Black's name but quickly recovered and nodded in acknowledgement. Hermione couldn't tell if he bought what she was saying, but decided to continue speaking. "With regards to the deed, Harry is happy to transfer it over to you, but for the sake of your anonymity he's willing to keep it in his name. He won't turn you or anyone else out, of course. Just say the word and the papers will be transferred into your name."  
  
"It would be best," Snape interrupted, "if Potter were to keep it in his own name. For now, at least. I wish to draw as little official attention to this endeavour as possible."  
  
Walking back down to the entryway, he withdrew his wand and cast a series of complex wand movements and nonverbal spells.  
  
"What are you doing?" she asked.  
  
"Making sure that there are no enchantments or spells in this house that I should be aware of. I seem to remember there being quite a lot. And Potter…"  
  
"Harry didn't booby-trap the house for you, Severus, he does live here himself."  
  
"Constant vigilance," he muttered. Satisfied with what his spells seemed to reveal, he returned his wand.  
  
"So… you'll take it?" Hermione asked brightly.  
  
"Pushy, aren't you, Granger?"  
  
"Hermione. And what sort of estate agent would I be if I didn't push for the sale?" She gave a sarcastic smile.  
  
A second later, the sound of a loud crack of Apparition behind her made her scream, turn around, and point her wand.  
  
Kreacher stood there shaking his head and muttering insults to himself as he gave a bow and walked away.  
  
"Don't move, Granger," Snape whispered theatrically. "It can smell fear." Hermione rolled her eyes and sheathed her wand again, making a sound of frustration. "Does he come with the house?"  
  
"Unfortunately."  
  
Snape looked at her thoughtfully. "You seem a bit jumpy, Granger."  
  
"Hermione. And I'm not jumpy. I'm alert."  
  
He rolled his eyes. "Whatever ridiculous euphemism you wish to use."  
  
She gave him a sharp look and echoed his words from a few moments earlier. "Constant vigilance."  
  
He gave her a smirk. "Potter said that you live here too?"  
  
Hermione nodded. "Part time, whenever I'm in London. I stay in the corner bedroom up on the first floor."  
  
"I would have thought that you lot would have outgrown this unhealthy codependency."  
  
"It's not codependency!" Hermione snapped, offended. "That's trivialising it. We're all very close. Harry and I have no other family, so we sort of adopted each other very early on. And we've stayed close."  
  
"Very close," he said, his voice insinuating something.  
  
"Oh come off it," Hermione said, ignoring his implication that she was fairly certain was designed only to bait her. "Close relationships between friends are perfectly healthy." She thought about adding, "And you might try it sometime," but wisely decided against it. She knew that he had tried and had failed to form a closer relationship with his closest friend and why he most likely would never try again.  
  
"I presume Weasley stays here too?" Snape asked nonchalantly.  
  
Hermione shook her head. "Not often. He lives in Diagon Alley but spends a lot of time with his family. His mother's been very shaken ever since his brother… well, he helps take care of her, so no, he doesn't come here often." She thought she saw a flicker of surprise and then relief in Snape's eye, but it was so quick she was sure she had imagined it. George was the twin he felt responsible for, not Fred, and yes, she knew he knew the difference.  
  
"Anyway," she continued. "You needn't worry about us, I'll vacate the room with plenty of time for you."  
  
His brow furrowed. "I did not wish to evict you. Potter offered the space, not you."  
  
She waved him off. "It will be put to much better use."  
  
He looked away from her for a moment and seemed to be considering something. Finally, in a very measured voice, he said, "It might be advisable for you to keep your room here. As you have seen, I sometimes need to be away in the evenings, and it is not advisable to leave the children completely alone if possible."  
  
She blinked. He would trust her with these children? He had no reason to. A normal person would, but not him. Her confusion must have registered on her face for he continued, "You did offer to help. And I do not intend to leave them with you right away. Even I have to grudgingly admit that you were right—they do need more socialization, and it would probably be advisable if you were one of the people they got to know and trust."  
  
Hermione held her breath. He had never paid her a compliment before. Ever. Not when she had written flawless essays, not when she had crafted perfect potions, not when she had been made a prefect, not ever. It felt unnatural. And just a teensy bit nice.  
  
"I appreciate you trusting me," she said finally. She knew that trust was not something he handed out easily. She only wondered what she had done to deserve it.  
  
Snape merely nodded.  
  
\------------------  
  
Severus wasn't sure what made him ask her to stay, to not move out of the house when he and the children would move in. It wasn't fear; he knew he could handle the children by himself, he had done so for years. He also knew he could leave the children alone for a few hour at a time; he did it regularly and always left a Patronus to alert him if there was anything immediately requiring his attention.  
  
He wasn't entirely sure he ever would leave her alone with them when he left, at least not right away. But it couldn't hurt to prepare for the distant future, even if he did not believe it would reach that point.  
  
He really didn't want to ask her for help on top of accepting Potter's offer of the house. But, while he would never, ever, admit it to her, Potter, or anyone else, he truly needed help. Sixteen years as Head of Slytherin and one year as Headmaster combined were less stressful than five years of being the caretaker for some very traumatised, abused, and neglected children.  
  
It had become virtually impossible for him to believe that anyone, including Potter and Granger, could be sympathetic toward their plight. But it seemed like--just as it had been back at Hogwarts--whatever he threw at them failed to stick and they remained insufferably naïve and idealistic. Well, maybe not as bad as they had been before the war. There was more realism there, more practicality. The slightest (only the slightest) bit of wisdom that comes only to those who have lived through the darkest of times.  
  
So he had probed, considered, tested, relented, and finally accepted. If I am going to continue to do this, I might as well do it right from this point onward. Get others involved. Teach the children not to fear others. Retain healthy suspicion, but not paranoia. Most of them were Slytherins, or would be. Slytherins do not live in fear. Slytherins prepare.  
  
He would never trust Potter, not completely. True, Potter had clearly resisted the urge to make public the content of the memories that he foolishly shown him. And Potter had not hounded him for friendship or discourse in the years since the war beyond the few letters he had sent in that first year, respected his privacy, and not tried to seek him out. Potter had even given him the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black. Potter had been remarkably generous, Severus had to admit. That still did not mean Severus liked him. Or completely trusted him.  
  
Granger… that was a different story. Sure, she was still just as insufferable as she had been in her youth. And he had legitimately worried that this was merely another ill-conceived crusade, as her House-Elf Liberation Front or whatever it had been called had been. But he had grudgingly been impressed with her ability to successfully change laws and attitudes with regard to the creatures. It had likely involved lots of negotiations and discussions. Granger was never one for negotiating, not in the past, anyway. She had been ever the bull-headed Gryffindor, convinced that she alone could change the world.  
  
But she had been honest with him. Few others ever had. She had not Occluded him when he had scanned her thoughts. She had thought this through. Done her homework. As always.  
  
Deep down, Severus had always known it would only be a matter of time before he could no longer do this effectively on his own. With the "graduates" of the orphanage getting into more trouble every day, it took more energy out of him to try to attend to everyone, and there simply were not enough hours in the day to do it all. He knew it was terribly Gryffindorish of him, trying to save all these children all on his own, shouldering the burden completely. But he was still a Slytherin, the Slytherins' Slytherin, and had at least had the self-awareness to know what a fool's errand it had become.  
  
The sound of Granger's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. Apparently she had been talking for some time.  
  
"…so they most likely think they will need at least a month to clear out, but then again we suspect it will likely take about that long for you to be appointed guardian anyway," she was saying. "But then again, you will also likely need time to change the place as necessary to suit your needs."  
  
She looked at him expectantly, apparently waiting for a response from him.  
  
"I am sure that there will be plenty of time to sort everything," he said finally. "What will take the most time, and be most important, is preparing them for the move."  
  
Granger nodded. "It will be a big change for them, won't it?"  
  
He nodded. "Many of them are unprepared for life outside the dungeon of the orphanage. Many who leave are not seen or heard from again, at least not by them. It will be difficult to move them here without a few panic attacks."  
  
He mustered all his self-control to force his face to stay calm and expressionless. No need to betray his fear for them, or for himself, to Granger. No need for weakness in front of her or anyone else.  
  
"I had planned to keep the groups of siblings together and then otherwise split them up two to a room by gender," Severus said, changing the subject. He took a seat on a settee in the sitting room and pulled out a piece of parchment on which he had written a list of names.  
  
"That's probably not a bad idea," Granger said, taking the seat next to him. "How many sibling groups are there?"  
  
"Four. Two Rosiers, Leopold and Ermengarde; three Averys, Ambrose, Cadence, and Vanessa; two Lestranges—"  
  
"Bellatrix had children?" Granger asked, horrified.  
  
"No, these were Rabastan's children. Libra and Pavo."  
  
"Oh." Granger visibly relaxed, and with good reason. The idea of Bella having offspring… he was grateful hers had been a marriage of convenience.  
  
"And two Travers, Ramona and Raleigh. That's nine of them. Then there are Thaddeus Mulciber, the two Carrow cousins-slash-siblings..."  
  
"You mean Amicus and Alecto..."  
  
Severus grimaced. "Yes."  
  
"Disgusting."  
  
"But not surprising?"  
  
"I suppose not."  
  
Granger visibly shuddered as Severus continued to make his way through the list.  
  
"Ariadne and Antioch Carrow; Sergei Dolohov, Margaret Macnair, and Henry Jugson."  
  
"So you have four boys and two girls, three rooms. That works out nicely."  
  
"So we need seven bedrooms total, one large enough to hold three," Severus said.  
  
"It might be a bit crowded but I think we can make it work." Granger said. "There are nine bedrooms here, we're bound to figure something out."  
  
\------------------  
  
They walked quietly through the house again. The first floor held the master bedroom that Severus would eventually take as well as the library. Hermione's room was also on the first floor, along with the bathroom. She offered to move to another room in case some of the orphans needed closer proximity to him, and he shook his head, simply saying that it was not necessary. The second floor had four bedrooms and a bathroom, where the Travers, Rosier, and Lestrange siblings would go as well as Nott and Antioch Carrow in one room. The third floor, which had three bedrooms, including the largest one, would hold the three Rowles, Ariadne Carrow and Margaret Macnair in another room, and Dolohov and Avey in another room. He decided to withhold judgment on the best use for the attic. Since the space was not immediately needed, he though it might be better to see what needs might present themselves after the move.  
  
Hermione was certain that she saw a flicker of emotion in his eyes when he mentioned how difficult it would be for the children to leave what had been home for most of their lives. That was as close to open as he probably got around everyone. He either trusted her, or it weighed that heavily on his mind.  
  
Who was she kidding, it was the latter. It would consume the mind of even the strongest person, and Snape was probably one of the strongest people she had ever met.  
  
"Well," she said finally. "We'll just have to do what we can to make the transition easier. I had thought… well, Muggles have lots of books on the subject. About abused and neglected children, how to bring them back, how to relax them and get them to trust. I mean, let's face it, the Wizarding world is not exactly…"  
  
"Progressive when it comes to mental health," Snape finished for her. She knew he, like her, was thinking of Neville's parents. And Gilderoy Lockhart. Wasting away their lives in a locked room, trapped in their own minds, their ailments low on the priorities list.  
  
"Anyway, I could easily procure some, if you thought it might be helpful," she said hesitantly, then added quickly, "Not, of course, that I think you haven't done a brilliant job already, and you could probably write a book on it yourself, and probably you know all there is to know anyway, maybe you've already read the very books I've talked about, I just thought…"  
  
"Granger, slow down, breathe. I think it is perhaps not a bad idea. I would welcome any resources you can think of."  
  
Hermione relaxed and gave him a small smile. Why had she been babbling? She only babbled when she was nervous. Was she nervous? Why on earth would she be nervous? Remembering herself, she replied, "Right, well, I'll make sure I get them to you."  
  
"It would probably be advisable to start consulting them soon," he said.  
  
She knew what he was really asking. "I will try to get them to you by the end of the week."  
  
Snape nodded. Hermione supposed that this passed as a thank-you for him.  
  
"Severus…" Hermione said slowly, debating whether or not she should finish the sentence. When he looked at her quizzically, she decided the die was cast and that she might as well. "I'm really glad you're the one who's been helping them. I think they're all very lucky that they have someone who cares about them."  
  
He blinked, met her eyes for a moment, then looked away. "I have an obligation," was all he said.  
  
Hermione knew that she had been right, at least initially—that Snape had felt responsible for the deaths of their parents and, like Harry, had felt obligated to care for them. Still… Snape had never held Harry in the middle of the night and consoled him the way he had with Miss Rookwood. Had never set up protective charms to keep people away from him the way he had at the orphanage. No, it could not merely be obligation that kept him going. Obligation allowed him to separate his mind from his heart, and he had done so for years with Harry. He had trained his mind on protecting him while reserving his heart for Lily. Here, it was plain as day to her, and to Harry, that he truly cared about these children.  
  
Knowing better than to call him out on it, Hermione merely said, "Well, you are the kind of man who takes his obligations very seriously, and so much the better for them." She tried to convey what she truly meant in her tone rather than her words.  
  
He looked at her again. Their eyes met, for only a moment. Hermione was struck by just how…deep they were. She could read something in them, something faint and fleeting. They seemed to say,  _You get it._  
  
They heard the sound of a key in the door and Hermione released the breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding.  
  
"I see you're both still here!" Harry said with a smile on his face. He had is arm around Ginny, who smiled politely but Hermione could tell she was tense. This was, after all, the first time she and Snape had been in the same room at the same time since his year as Headmaster.  
  
"Find anything interesting?" Hermione asked, accepting a hug from each of them.  
  
"Maybe," Ginny said. "Good evening Professor Snape," she said in a suddenly stilted voice.  
  
"Mrs. Potter." Snape stood and spoke stiffly.  
  
"I hope you're well." Ginny's face was a mask of politeness that she reserved only for situations where she felt very awkward.  
  
"Very well. I hope you are too," Snape replied, every word clearly forced.  
  
"Won't you stay for dinner?" Ginny asked in an unnaturally high voice and rather more quickly than normal. She was doing a terrible job of feigning enthusiasm.  
  
The rest of the exchange passed quite rapidly and far too formally.  
  
"No, I cannot stay."  
  
"Pity. Some other time then."  
  
"Perhaps. Good evening Potter, Granger, Mrs. Potter." Without another word he was out the door.  
  
"Whew," Ginny said, shrugging and leaning into Harry after the door slammed shut.  
  
"'Won't you stay for dinner?' 'Pity, some other time, then'? Who are you and what have you done with my wife?" Harry teased.  
  
\----------------  
  
Even though he had reluctantly accepted the gift of the house and the help from the Gryffindors, something still nagged at Severus. Namely, the voice in the back of his head, the one that kept telling him,  _They will want something from you for this. And you will not be able to give it. And they will take it all away._  
  
Yes, it was possible that they truly did want to help these children for purely altruistic reasons. And true, it was an offer he had to accept on their behalf. He was in no position to turn it away or negotiate, a position he positively hated to be in. But he still could not put off the possibility that they had something up their sleeves.  
  
Namely, what did they expect from him in return for their generosity? And when payment came due, would he be able to give them what they wanted?  
  
What if he couldn't?  
  
 _No one would ever do anything for you unless there was a percentage in it for them, the voice admonished._  
  
In Severus's experience, gifts like this never came without strings attached. As his father had been fond of saying, "There is no free lunch."  
  
He had surreptitiously attempted to perform Legilimency on Granger again, but this time he could tell she was Occluding him in some way. Potter... there was no way he could get into Potter's head without him realising it immediately. Potter's mind did things to Severus. Made him feel emotions that he otherwise kept locked tightly in a box in the back of his mind. And wouldn't that cock up the whole thing, for Potter to be aware of Severus's prying and revoke his generous offer?  
  
They said now that they only wanted to help. If he didn't know better, he would have called it gratuitous. _People just don't do gratuitous_ , Severus thought. N _ot for them, and especially not for me_. It didn't add up. He would get to the bottom of this.  
  
Others had demanded much more from him after offering much less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've definitely taken some liberties with the layout of Grimmauld Place (namely, I'm fairly certain I doubled the number of bedrooms). At the time I wrote/published this I couldn't find a definitive layout of the house so I decided to make it fit my needs.
> 
> Coming up: Hermione oversteps a boundary.


	7. Sit and Observe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Severus had a gaggle of future Slytherins on his hands, a fact in which he found immense relief.

Severus's appointment as the legal guardian of all fifteen orphans went relatively quickly and smoothly. He supposed he had Potter to thank for that…again. Maybe Granger. Both worked for the Ministry and both were close with Kingsley, who had ensured that the proceedings were expedited and sealed.  
  
Thank Merlin for small miracles.  
  
Now all he had to do was inform the children that they would be moving. Permanently. That would not go over well. The ones who had left permanently never returned to visit. He hadn't had the heart to tell them where they really went. As far as most of them knew, they were at Hogwarts, and not allowed to write.  
  
He hated himself for lying, hated himself because he knew they would find out eventually and hate him for it. Severus had never minded being hated in his life, really. But right now he was the one person these children did not hate, and he was dreading the day that it would change.  
  
The older ones, the ones he visited at the brothel or in Azkaban or on the street, would accept his help and compassion but he could see, feel, the resentment they felt toward him. His lack of warning. How they hadn't known how to survive outside the orphanage. Even though he had prepared them as much as possible for Hogwarts—the politics, the houses, the rules, the schedules—none of it mattered once they were bullied or harassed and chased out of there. Or expelled for turning their wands on other students. Hogwarts officially had a zero-tolerance policy for hexes and curses between students (a policy created in the aftermath of the war) but seemed only to enforce it against students from certain backgrounds. Not officially, of course. His graduates just seemed to be the only ones ever caught with their wands in hand. And they always made the mistake of healing themselves in private, rather than go to an authority figure.  
  
Severus sighed.  
  
And Minerva had always seemed so fair-minded to him in the past.  
  
 _Not when your House is involved_ , the voice said.  
  
\------------------  
  
Moving house was more difficult and time-consuming than Harry and Ginny had anticipated. They had finally found a new place to live that offered space, comfort, and, above all, privacy. It was all ready for them.  
  
Then James Sirius Potter decided to come a bit early. Moving would be put on hold until he was a little bit older and Harry and Ginny had begun to sleep again.  
  
Everyone might have expected Molly to mother them all after the birth, but as had been the case with her other grandchildren, it was simply too much for her to do anything but visit and coo and leave. Fred's death, Bill's injury, the way that all her children had been injured physically and psychologically by the war… it had finally broken her.  
  
\---------------  
  
The transition was… difficult, to say the least.  
  
Potter and his wife and their new dependent eventually moved out, leaving behind the furniture for Severus to transfigure according to his needs. He had duplicated and resized the beds, magically enlarged the bathrooms and duplicated the toilets and showers to resemble that of a dormitory and accommodate more than one person at a time. He had dimmed the lights and changed the colour of the walls to a darker shade. Turned the upstairs library into a classroom. Removed the Black family tapestry; it would only upset them to see their parents on there.  
  
It was exhausting, but Severus figured it was finally at least livable.  
  
And then the most arduous task had begun. He had met with both Longbottom and Lovegood. When Granger had first mentioned it, he was ready to hex her right then and there for suggesting that Longbottom, in all his incompetence, be allowed around these children. His children, now. And Lovegood… there were no words.  
  
However, despite his misgivings, he decided they were at least competent enough for his purposes in the short-term. There was some initial awkwardness and hesitancy and outright stupidity on their part, but he finally determined that as incompetent as Longbottom was with potions, he knew enough to teach young children the basic pre-Hogwarts subjects. A brief discussion with Minerva had confirmed that Longbottom was well-liked by the students.  
  
Despite having lost his parents to Death Eaters at such a young age, Longbottom had reacted like Potter. He had seen through the parents to the plight of their orphans, and was moved by the fact that they had no extended family to turn to. Since Herbology had become an elective course at Hogwarts, he was only teaching part-time in the mornings, and agreed to come relieve Severus of his teaching duties in the afternoon. Severus still vowed to keep an eye on him.  
  
Lovegood… he wasn't sure what on Earth her story was, but he was satisfied that she, too, could handle caring for his charges at least some of the time. She was a researcher and had taken over the Quibbler after her father's death (he never did make it out alive from his encounter with the Death Eaters in his home when he claimed to have Potter) but had also done a surprising amount of training in counseling. Like everyone else, she was able to see past the parents to the children, whom she accurately characterised as misunderstood outsiders. Probably because she had always been one herself.  
  
He also found her to be very insightful. Uncomfortably so, in fact.  
  
"I can see why you address everyone by their surnames," she had mused during their discussion. "It separates you from them. That's why you insist on never, ever using Harry's name, isn't it? So you can continue to consider him and his father collectively as just 'Potter' and therefore one in the same in your mind? And then you don't have to admit that Harry is more like his mother than you would care to remember?"  
  
It was as if she had never set foot in one of his potions classes! No fear! He had nearly Obliviated her brain to, well, oblivion for it. But he came to his senses quickly enough and decided that as long as she did not turn her attention to him, this sort of insight could actually be quite valuable for the children. She agreed to come in on weekends. She had offered to come more often, but Severus felt this was all he could handle of her.  
  
There was still a matter of finding a healer, and after reading the books Granger provided he had considered even bringing in a Muggle psychiatrist, but for now this would have to do. He didn't know what was more disconcerting: that he had foisted Longbottom, Lovegood, Granger, and Potter on his charges, or that this was a marked improvement over their present circumstances.  
  
As much as a depressive as Severus was, it was too sad a decision to make.  
  
Potter had hosted a fundraiser for the adoptive parents and legal guardians of the Ministry orphans. He appeared at so few events previously that it attracted a lot of media attention and, therefore, money. Severus had more than enough funds to last for the foreseeable future.  
  
The children had been terrified to take the portkey. The orphanage was all they knew, and even though he had done his best to assure them that they would all be staying together and that no one would be sent away, it had been a bit too much for some of the younger ones. Those with older siblings had been comforted by them, but Severus still found himself having to reassure a few children as they cried in fear.  
  
He had held them and let them cry on his shoulder. A secret he would take to his grave if he had anything to say on the matter.  
  
After the government-issued camp beds and threadbare blankets they had been used to, the children gaped at their new four-poster beds and duvets and multiple bathrooms. Many of course had come from money, but these were the youngest of the orphans, the ones least likely to remember. They mistrusted all of this. They were sure there was a catch.  
  
Yes, Severus had a gaggle of future Slytherins on his hands, a fact in which he found immense relief.  
  
But the nights were definitely the worst. The wailing. The crying. The nightmares. They seemed to be worse in this new environment. Severus knew it was mostly transitional, that once they realised that they were even safer here than they had been at the orphanage, they would begin to relax and trust their surroundings.  
  
At his request, his new "professors" would not start until he called them, and Granger and Potter agreed to stay away for the first few weeks. Potter was apparently busy with his new child and Granger, well, Granger was probably available but he didn't want her here yet. So far they had owled him occasionally to ask him how things were progressing, but beyond that they had left them alone.  
  
They had done exactly as he asked without putting up any resistance.  
  
It was infuriating.  
  
What were they playing at, exactly?  
  
After about three weeks, Severus decided he had enough and owled Granger to come over to meet them. He had sneered at her quick and over-eager response.  
  
\---------------  
  
Hermione fancied herself a "woman of the world." She had seen a lot in her young life, and prided herself that very little could still shock and move her. Then she had been proven wrong with her little foray into Knockturn Alley a couple of months ago. Surely, she thought, that had been the worst of it. Plus, she had seen these children before. Meeting them properly would probably be much easier; Snape would have given them plenty of warning about her and told them that he trusted her and that they should, too. The may even want to talk to her.  
  
Once again, associating with Severus Snape had completely undermined her thinking. At least this time, she suspected this had not been intentional.  
  
He had gathered everyone in the sitting room on the ground floor, which he had magically enlarged and had duplicated the sofas and settees so that there was plenty of room for everyone. The children had sat there… wooden. Vacant. Afraid. She had never seen such fear in children before—and she had gone to school in the middle of a war, a time in which it was not uncommon for a student to be pulled out of class to be informed of the death of a close relative.  
  
She supposed that it was due to the fact that they were painfully aware of their isolation, that they maybe even knew how unwanted they were by the rest of the world, and that in their experience, every new stranger had been a potential enemy. Hermione briefly wondered what Snape had done to earn their trust. He claimed it was the faded Dark Mark scar on his forearm. Hermione was still not sure whether she believed that.  
  
Snape had informed them in a much gentler voice than Hermione had ever heard him use that Miss Granger was safe and to be trusted, but that if she ever did anything unusual, they knew what to do. Hermione guessed that there had been an earlier meeting about her in which he gave them instructions on what to do if she harmed or threatened any of them, most likely to come to him.  
  
She hoped to God that she would never give them reason to do that.  
  
Today was meant to be a bit of a meet-and-greet; she would introduce herself and merely observe everyone in the common area to evaluate the situation, give them time to adjust to her presence around them, and help Snape determine what he needed from her and the others. A bit like her auditing job, really. She had agreed to sleep in her room, since Severus had informed her he was planning to check in with some of his "graduates" after they went to bed. Hermione did not ask specifically who or where, because she honestly did not want to know.  
  
She was told in no uncertain terms that she was merely there as a warm body in the event of an emergency, to stay away from their bedrooms at all times, and that he always left a Patronus with the children when he went away, which would alert him to any sort of problems. Hermione figured he could probably respond more quickly than she could, but it was probably safest to have two battle-hardened wizards on hand, and at least one in the house at all times.  
  
Hermione observed the children from the far corner as they… well, play wasn't the right word. Gathered. They were all very clearly bonded with one another; as the youngest orphans, they had spent the most years and greatest proportion of their lives at the orphanage. They had seen their siblings and friends disappear to Hogwarts only to disappear again. They sat quietly and talked. Didn't really draw, didn't really write, didn't really read anything. They didn't start games of gobstones or wizard chess or even show an interest in any of Harry's old snitches. They didn't seem to want to play games with each other or complete any homework. They just…were.  
  
She made a mental note to ask Snape if this was typical or even an improvement on their prior conditions. When she did, while they ate and she could speak to him outside their hearing, he had sadly replied that yes, the interaction was an improvement.  
  
"Previously it had been more like a rugby huddle—clinging, not really talking, just sticking together," Snape said. "That they are willing to sit in a room, apart from one another, not huddled in a great cluster, is fortunately, or unfortunately, a vast improvement."  
  
"We have our work cut out for us, don't we?" Hermione asked. Snape nodded.  
  
After dinner, he set the children reading and told Hermione that there would be no need for her to do anything but observe them from the corner. He walked upstairs to the master bedroom, where he had set up his office space, and shut the door gently. It was such an un-Snape-like gesture that it startled her. She figured that she wasn't the only person in the house who jumped at loud noises.  
  
She looked over the group. The had each taken a book appropriate to their reading level and had settled on the couches. Siblings cuddled up together to read, older siblings helping younger ones sound out words. It did not look effortless; many of them seemed to be struggling. Particularly the little brown-haired, blue-eyed girl sitting alone on the couch nearest Hermione. She spent a great deal of time on each page, sounding out each word, and making little huffs of frustration.  
  
Hermione didn't know what possessed her to do it, she had never been a teacher herself and had very little experience around small children, let alone those with trust and anxiety issues, but she stood up and made her way slowly to the girl and stood about five feet away from her sofa.  
  
"May I sit here?" Hermione asked. The little girl looked up, startled, and said nothing. Hermione did not fail to notice that fourteen other pairs of eyes were watching her. Taking her lack of reaction as permission, she gingerly sat on the far corner of the sofa so as not to frighten the girl further.  
  
"My name is Hermione," she said softly.  
  
The little girl stared at her for a long time, seemingly deciding whether to respond. Evidently deciding that this woman was probably safe (Mr. Snape said she was) she replied softly, "Margaret."  
  
Margaret. Mulciber. Daughter of one of Voldemort's most feared and loathed Death Eaters. A nine year old girl who looked like a china doll. According to the records Hermione had read, Margaret suffered from severe panic attacks and night terrors. Swallowing in order to avoid reacting to the name, she replied, "What are you reading, Margaret?"  
  
Margaret hesitantly showed Hermione the title of the book. Through the Looking Glass, by Lewis Carroll. Hermione smiled softly. "That's a wonderful book. Are you enjoying it?"  
  
Margaret considered what to say. She did not want to admit to the lady that she was having a very difficult go of reading it, but at the same time she really wanted to know the story. Mr. Snape always told them to never let an enemy see your weakness. But this Hermy-nee person couldn't be an enemy, could she? Mr. Snape had left her alone with them, and he always stayed in the room with other volunteers, at least at first. It was scary to imagine it, but this lady was probably safe. No one with brown eyes that soft could be dangerous.  
  
So Margaret shook her head. "I'm having trouble sounding out the words," she said softly, averting her gaze to her lap in shame.  
  
Hermione wanted to reach out and touch the girl, but realised that was probably a bad idea, not least of which if Snape found out. She really was trying to obey his guidelines; she knew he did not leave people alone with the children very often and took their safety and security lightly. At the same time, it was hard for her to sit idly by and watch a child fail to discover the joy of a good book.  
  
She found herself saying, "Would you like to read it together? I can read out loud and you can follow along with the words on the page. Maybe if you hear the words and see them written, it will come more easily to you."  
  
Does that even work? Hermione honestly couldn't remember how she had learned how to read. She knew she had been an early bloomer in that regard. She knew her parents had read to her though, so it must have done something.  
  
The little girl hesitated for a very long time, then nodded slowly. Hermione reached out her hand and the girl recoiled, but Hermione only said, "For the book." The girl hesitantly handed it over then snatched her hand back, as if Hermione's outreached hand was a snake waiting to bite her.  
  
"If you want to, um, move a bit closer, we can both see the words," Hermione said. The girl froze. "It's alright, I can start reading, you can move if you want, or stay if you don't want." Clearing her throat, she turned to the beginning and began to narrate softly.  
  
\-------------------  
  
Severus sighed and added another folder to the growing pile. Upon his appointment as legal guardian to the youngest ones, Minerva had been kind enough to forward the disciplinary records of all past orphans at Hogwarts in order to inform him of the troubles his current charges would most likely face. They were bad and sadly typical of the last few years. Fights between students. Waking up to find scorpions or tarantulas in their beds. Their shoes charmed to slip on the ground whenever they took a step. With a grimace he considered that any of these records could have been his at school.  
  
There was heavier stuff, too. Other students cornering them in quiet, forgotten areas of the castle, spitting in their faces and calling them Death Eaters. Telling them that their parents were dead or Kissed (usually true information) and that they would be next because they deserved it. Beatings in retribution for lost family members. Theft of what few personal possessions the children brought with them.  
  
But worst of all had to be the attitudes of the staff. Most of the staff had equated Slytherins in general with Death Eaters, something that the general Slytherin population seemed to resent (understandably). They treated these students in particular as guilty until proven innocent in just about everything. If one of them gave a wrong answer in class, they were given detention. Points were docked left and right. Any students struggling were not only not offered help, they were usually punished worse for it.  
  
Severus knew he was more guilty than most when it came to playing favourites as a teacher, and had punished children unfairly for who their parents were (Potter in particular; Granger's words had strangely hit home) but at least he never stooped so low as to actually prevent a student from learning. In his experience, they usually did that on their own. He knew his children, they would not try to not learn something. He blamed the staff.  
  
But how to take on that problem? He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. Severus had cut it shorter after the war, a way of starting over, but even after five years it was still a bit jarring to feel it so short after a lifetime of hair down to his chin or shoulder or even longer.  
  
It had been about thirty minutes. Better go check on them.  
  
He walked to the first floor landing quietly and peered over the handrail, where he had a pretty decent view of the sitting room and could observe unobtrusively. What he found horrified him.  
  
Granger. Sitting among the students. Reading out loud. And all fifteen children sitting in rapt attention.  
  
 _No. No. No. No._  
  
Was this chit still incapable of following even the simplest instructions? Sit back, observe, say nothing. He had told her this for a very specific reason: he was not sure how well the children would react to her, and wanted to give them time to adjust to her presence before she began actually interacting with them.  
  
He strode quickly down the stairs and into the sitting room and made a beeline for Granger. "Up," he said softly. She looked at him quizzically. Was she willfully misunderstanding him tonight? "Up," he said more forcefully but still quietly. Granger set down the book and followed him out of the room. Severus flicked his wand over his shoulder and cast his Patronus to watch over the children.  
  
"Read," was all he said over his shoulder.  
  
As soon as they were out of their sight and hearing, he grabbed Granger none-too-gently by the elbow, pulled her up the stairs, threw open the door to her bedroom, and shoved her inside.  
  
"What the bloody hell was that all about?" she asked angrily.  
  
Severus hastily threw up a silencing charm before rounding on her, his black eyes blazing. "Sit. And. Observe," he spat. "That is all you were to do—sit and observe. I thought you could handle that very simple instruction. Then the moment my back is turned you begin to interact with them."  
  
"They were having trouble reading, all I did was—"  
  
"Of course they have trouble reading, they have learning disabilities, almost all of them. Do you think I am unaware of that? Do you think I do not wish to remedy that?" He was nearly yelling now, and he never yelled. "But you have taken this a step too far. You were meant to observe so that they could get used to your presence. Only when they were used to you would it be wise for you to speak with them. They are used to people abandoning them, they do not trust easily, which is why I introduce new people very, very slowly."  
  
"They seemed to trust me. Margaret was a little hesitant at first but soon she drew closer to me and the others asked if they could listen and of course I wasn't going to say no—"  
  
"Granger."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Shut up."  
  
Granger stopped talking.  
  
"By disregarding the very specific, and yet very simple, instructions I left you, you have broken my trust. Unfortunately, it seems that even your brain cannot wrap itself around something so simple. I cannot say I am surprised and I cannot believe I thought you might be able to handle it. Today it might be something simple like reading. Tomorrow it could be something much more dire."  
  
"Don't be ridiculous, Severus, you know that I am in this for them."  
  
"Do I?"  
  
Her brow furrowed in confusion. "Why wouldn't you?"  
  
Severus narrowed his eyes at her, his voice dripping with venom. He took a few steps closer to her, towering over her, his stance every bit as intimidating as he hoped. "Why would I?"  
  
\--------------------  
  
Hermione was livid. Here she was, helping these children, drawing them out of their shells, interacting with them, connecting with them, and she was being berated for it like a first year who had melted a cauldron? He was treating her like she had been caught beating them?  
  
What was wrong with this man?  
  
She huffed in frustration. She really, really didn't want this to get worse.  
  
"Severus," she said softly. "I have no wish to argue with you. I never have, and especially not tonight. I can try to defend myself, but I just know it will be futile. You have made up your mind about me and my motives, I see. You're right, I did not just sit there and watch them. I disobeyed you and I connected with them. They seemed to like it. They responded to it. I gathered very quickly that this was a very rare occurrence for them. I think it was the right thing to do and nothing you can say will change my mind.  
  
"I know this is stressful and new, Severus, but I do not know what more I can do to prove to you that Harry and I are on your side. If you are not yet ready to believe us after what you have seen the last few months alone, then I do not know what more I can do to convince you. I am done trying."  
  
She sighed. "No, let me be clear; I am not done trying with them. I am simply done trying with you."  
  
They stood there eye-to-eye, toe-to-toe, for what seemed like eternity. He ought to throw her out on her arse right now and ward the doors so tight she could never come back.  
  
He didn't realise until he took a deep breath that he had been nearly panting.  
  
"No one does anything just for them, Granger, and you and I have never been on the same side," he said finally.  
  
"That's. Not. True," she said through gritted teeth, pausing after each word for emphasis. "We were always on the same side. We may not have liked each other, but we always fought for the same thing."  
  
He snorted derisively. "You and I may have been soldiers fighting on the same side of a battle, but that does not mean we fought for the same things."  
  
"I don't doubt our motivations were different, but that shouldn't mean anything."  
  
"It means everything."  
  
Granger took a breath and shook her head. "You're wrong. And the past has nothing to do with this, the here and now, these children. Now, we are fighting on the same side and doing so for the same reason."  
  
"Granger, are you incapable of thinking for yourself? Always 'we', 'we', 'we' with you. Can you and Potter untangle yourselves from each other to focus on what you are doing and why?"  
  
She looked affronted. "I am not Harry's puppet and never have been. This was my idea, I learned of this problem through my audit, and we are both here for the same reasons as each other as well as you."  
  
"You cannot possibly know my reasons."  
  
"Can't I?" she said acidly. "It started out of pure obligation, like it did with protecting Harry. Didn't it? You felt responsible that these children had been orphaned in whole or in part due to your actions as a spy, whether by your wand directly or by information you betrayed to the Order. But that changed, didn't it Severus? You grew to care for them. You grew to sympathise with their plight.  
  
"I know I'm right. I've seen how you care for children who you protect solely out of obligation. You did everything you could to make sure Harry knew you did not like him and that you equated him with his father. You never, ever, missed an opportunity to insult him. You never held him while he cried, or protected him from the wrong influences, or stood on a landing and watched to make sure the person who you had left to watch him was treating him the way he should be treated. And you never, ever took steps to become his legal guardian.  
  
"That's the difference here, Severus. Somewhere along the line you went from acting out of sheer guilt to caring for these children as a father."  
  
"You do not have the first idea—"  
  
"Do I not? Tell me I'm wrong! Look me in the eye and tell me that this is nothing more an obligation for you and that you're up here berating me for disobeying an instruction you gave me out of habit, not out of fear that they will be hurt. Look me in the eye and tell me that you owe these children only what you owed Harry and nothing more. Look me in the eye and tell me that you don't care for them." With that she crossed her arms and glared at him challengingly.  
  
Again they stood there, eye-to-eye, toe-to-toe, breathing heavily and saying nothing. Glaring. Daring the other to speak. Severus could think of no reply to Granger, at least not one that he cared to share.  
  
"Do you want me to leave?" she finally asked after a long silence.  
  
He thought for a moment before answering. "Not yet. They need to get to bed. Then I want you out of here as soon as possible." He turned on his heel and left.  
  
\-------------------  
  
That infuriating man! He still did not trust her! Hermione paced around the room, wishing she could go outside. Then the realization struck her that here she was, twenty-four years old, and she was being confined to her room like an unruly child as if he was still her teacher. Which made things even more maddening.  
  
She flopped down on her bed and stared up at the ceiling. Harry had kept up the crown moulding in here at her request, and Snape did not seem to have changed anything. She had no doubt he had been through all her possessions, looking for reasons not to trust her or to check for hexes or traps. She supposed the silencing charm was still in place because she could hear nothing outside the door—no shuffling of feet off to bed, no feet on the stairs, nothing. Given that Grimmauld Place was the kind of old home that betrayed even the quietest of visitors with squeaky steps and loose floorboards, and that she had seldom slept through Harry creeping downstairs for a midnight snack, that was most likely the case.  
  
Hermione wondered if Snape had locked her inside. She wouldn't put it past him.  
  
How long did it take to put fifteen children to bed? Half an hour? Two hours? Ten minutes? Would it be mad to try to take a nap?  
  
Definitely would be. Best get up.  
  
Finally, after what could have been fifteen minutes or five hours (she was so lost in her anger that she had lost track of time) her bedroom door opened and there stood Snape with a murderous look on his face. Refusing to be cowed, she stood up and walked to the door, standing face to face.  
  
"I think it's time you left," he said.  
  
"What about your plans for the evening? Don't you need me to stay with the children here?"  
  
"Not anymore."  
  
"Are you not going?"  
  
"That is no concern of yours."  
  
"Yes it is."  
  
"Granger!"  
  
"I think we both know it's better for everyone involved if someone is here with the children at all times, not just your Patronus. You know and I know that it is a better idea for me to stay here, even if I just stay shut up in this room."  
  
"You need to leave."  
  
"Severus…" Hermione was finally at her wits' end. She brought her hands to either side of her head and rubbed her temples in an effort to soothe the tension headache that she felt coming on. "I don't understand. Surely you've ascertained by now that the children were neither harmed nor traumatised by my reading to them. Even you should be over the anger by now. So what I don't understand is why you persist in acting as if I did something to endanger them? Surely you owe me an explanation for that?"  
  
"I owe you nothing."  
  
"Severus…"  
  
Snape looked at her coldly, and she could tell he was trying to decide whether she was worthy of his continued attention. She saw in his eyes anger and…betrayal?  
  
Finally he did speak, and when he did so it was in a controlled voice that betrayed how defeated he really felt.  
  
"They have never been read to before by anyone, save me. It is a very intimate thing for them. I do not wish them to grow attached to you only to have you leave them when it becomes too difficult."  
  
Hermione was shocked. Wait, was she? She already knew that he did not trust her, and she knew that in his experience, people often did cut and run when things became too difficult. But she was probably the most tenacious person he had ever met—he had to know that from all that had happened between them at Hogwarts and after. Despite all of that he still could not trust others.  
  
She had never felt such pity for someone. And pity, she knew, was the very last emotion Severus Snape would ever want anyone to show him.  
  
"Oh Severus," she said, taking his hand, careful to show only concern and honesty in her face and her voice. "I am not going anywhere."  
  
He did not withdraw.  
  
"Go check on your graduates. I will stay here, either in this room or on the ground floor, in case the children need me. Leave a Patronus behind if you want. But I do not think it is right to leave them, and I won't."  
  
He still did not withdraw his hand from hers or even respond.  
  
"I know you want to protect them, but hiding them away from the world is not the answer." She let go of his hand. "Good night, Severus."  
  
And with that she shut the door, leaving her former teacher standing alone in the corridor, utterly confused.  
  
\-----------------  
  
He knew that he should have ripped open the door, grabbed her by the arm, and thrown her out on her arse.  
  
He knew that he should have told her that she didn't have any idea what she was speaking about and intimidate her into silence.  
  
He knew that he should have pulled his hand away the moment she reached for it.  
  
He knew that when she squeezed his hand, he never should have squeezed back.  
  
And he knew, above all, that he should have dismissed the whole thing as a pitiful attempt to manipulate him using a gentle touch. How many women had tried that on him in the past?  
  
Severus knew all of this. Really. And yet here he was, walking back from Knockturn Alley after another visit to his graduates, having left Granger in charge.  
  
Something about the way she had looked at him, spoken to him, touched him, had completely disarmed him and his suspicions. Deep down, he knew that she was not here to harm the children, was not seeking out a pretext to get him away for the night (no fool he, he had left a Patronus on each floor on which the children slept), and was not messing him around. He prided himself on being a superb reader of people, that he could understand the thoughts and motivations that they so easily and conveniently betrayed. From day one, Granger's face had betrayed nothing untoward, but he had not trusted himself. It had seemed far too good to be true, and so he had put her off. Used Legillimency. Taken her and Potter to that brothel to scare them away. Acted vulnerable to probe her into letting her guard down.  
  
He couldn't help but feel foolish about the whole thing. Foolish for trusting her. Foolish for not trusting her. It was all very vexing.  
  
He entered Grimmauld Place, shut the door, and collapsed against it, letting himself exhale loudly. This was, by far, the hardest part of his job. When the children were in his care, he could protect them. But a fat lot of good it did when, almost as soon as they left his charge, they turned to lives of crime and desperation and abuse.  
  
What more could he do, he wondered. He knew he was not doing enough. His goal was to get them to Hogwarts and prepare them for the life they would have there. Yet his charges seemed to need his help the most after they left. He could not leave the younger ones; they required more time, but not as much help.  
  
He did a thorough check of all the rooms. All children were sleeping in their beds, an excellent result on any night, and even better considering he had not even been here. On nights that Severus left, at least one child usually realised it and sat up waiting fearfully. Not tonight, it seemed.  
  
He checked Granger's room last, knocking softly on the door but not waiting for a response before opening it. She was awake and reading by the fire and marking up some parchment; probably that bloody audit of hers.  
  
"Ariadne Carrow had a nightmare, but I was able to calm her and she managed to fall back asleep. Otherwise, everyone was fine."  
  
"Good," Severus replied.  
  
Granger tilted her head and looked at him thoughtfully. "Are you alright?"  
  
"Fine, Granger. I'll retire now and let you do the same."  
  
"Where did you go?" she asked.  
  
"Granger… please…"  
  
"I can tell that you're upset, Severus. I see it in your eyes. You may be good at masking your emotions, but something has upset you enough for me to be able to tell." She indicated the second chair by the fire. "Come sit with me until you feel better. You don't have to talk to me if you don't want to."  
  
When he thought about it later, he would find that he could not say why he accepted her invitation. He moved slowly and sat in the chair, not looking at her, but staring into the flames. It was a kind of meditation for him, watching the flames dance on the logs, feel the heat radiating out. Granger worked in complete silence next to him. Severus had never minded long silences, and it appeared that, for all her insufferable babbling, Granger did not mind them either. Most people felt the need to fill silences with small talk or questions. Granger seemed content to sit, like he did.  
  
Curious.  
  
"I went to Knockturn Alley tonight." Severus was surprised to hear himself speaking.  
  
He heard the scratching of Granger's quill stop. "Back to the… that place?"  
  
Severus nodded. He opened his mouth to say more but he found his voice too thick to speak.  
  
"It's hard, going there, isn't it?" Granger asked. Severus did not reply. "You don't have to answer me if you don't want to, but what is it that you do when you visit them?"  
  
For some reason, Severus found that he did want to answer her. "I speak with them. I listen to them. I give them money. I give them counsel. I bring news. But mostly I just… am there."  
  
"Someone who treats them like human beings, rather than objects," Granger said thoughtfully. Severus nodded. "Severus, why not bring them here?"  
  
He gave her a cool glare. "Do you think that I do not wish to take them out of that horrible place?" he snapped. "Do you not think that if I could give them the means to escape, I would? This is a large house, but not large enough for all of them."  
  
"How many are there, in the… place?"  
  
 _Typical Gryffindor_ , Severus thought. Wants to attempt to solve the problem, not accept that it cannot be solved.  
  
"Six," Severus replied. "There are six."  
  
"We could easily fit three in this room here, and we could move some of the younger children to three to a room and free up another room that way. Or we could transfigure the attic into a dormitory, you still haven't come up with a use for it…"  
  
"Granger," Severus snapped. "Stop. First, I disagree that there is sufficient space for them. Second, what would they do instead? They would just live here? They would not be able to work or go to school."  
  
"They would continue their education, like they should be doing anyway," Granger pointed out. "You already do that with the younger ones. Why not teach the older ones? They are not of age, they should be in school."  
  
"I cannot duplicate the curriculum of Hogwarts, Granger!" Severus said in exasperation. "It takes all of my energy and all of my time just to take care of these younger children. To add older ones, to require a magical curriculum on top of everything else…impossible. And allow me to enlighten you, Granger: teaching one magical subject is taxing enough. To attempt even the core subjects…it is madness." He finally met her eyes. "I am only one man. I can only do so much. And yet…"  
  
 _And yet it isn't enough._  
  
 _Always have an excuse for your failures, don't you_ , said the voice.  
  
"So the alternative is better?" Granger shot back.  
  
Severus hung his head and spoke very quietly. "I am doing what I can."  
  
Granger sighed. "I was just trying to be helpful."  
  
"If I could get them back into Hogwarts, Granger, believe me, I would."  
  
"Why not foreign schools? Durmstrang or Beauxbatons? Could they be sent there?"  
  
Severus shook his head. "The names of the Death Eaters are known across Europe. At least here, I am able to keep half an eye on them and provide them with support. If they were to go abroad, to a country where they have no language skills and no connections, I do not dare think of what would happen to them."  
  
Granger sighed. "I know that these are not problems that can be resolved tonight, or in one night, or anytime soon. But you know the old saying, where there's a will, there's a way. We will find another way."  
  
Severus did not take kindly to that phrase. "It is my experience, Granger, that there is not always another way."  
  
"You know Severus," Granger said a little too cheerfully, "I'm not necessarily sure that is your experience."  
  
He let his mask fall for only the smallest of moments before regaining his expressionless look.  
  
"Anyway," she continued, "I'm tired and imagine you must be too, so I am going home now. Good night, Severus."  
  
She made to leave the room for good but turned around just as she reached the doorway and said softly, "You're wrong, by the way. You're one man, but you're not alone anymore. Not in this. Not ever again."  
  
And she walked out the door, down the stairs, and out of the house.  
  
Severus continued to sit in the room, her room, and think about what she said. But he did not dwell on what they had talked about, but rather on one of the first things she had mentioned.  
  
Ariadne Carrow had had a nightmare? Granger had gone in there? Why hadn't it alerted his Patronus? It was designed to alert him of any intruders into any of the children's rooms.  
  
Of course. The Patronus would only alert him if an intruder posed any danger to the children.  
  
If there was anything Severus could trust, it was his Patronus. Her Patronus.  
  
Granger apparently was safe after all. She posed no threat to the children.  
  
And, perhaps, none of them did.  
  
Granger had disobeyed him and overstepped her bounds and pushed him far beyond his comfort zone.  
  
Blast her, it seemed to have done some good.  
  
They were sleeping better than they had since their arrival. They had spent a sustained amount of time with Granger without anything bad happening. They had even seemed a bit sad to see her go upstairs.  
  
Perhaps… perhaps he could let up just the tiniest bit. For them.  
  
\--------------  
  
Lying in her bed that night, unable to sleep, Hermione felt something gnaw at her stomach.  
  
True, he had given her a specific instruction, which she had ignored. And then he had asked her to leave, which she refused to do. And then he had not wanted to talk, but then she had pushed him into it.  
  
Even though Hermione was pleased with the result of what she had done, and was confident that the push had been necessary under the circumstances, and had no doubt in her mind at the time it had been the absolute right thing to do, she couldn't help but feel a bit conflicted about it.  
  
Just a bit.  
  
She had effectively browbeaten Severus Snape into leaving her alone with his kids, against all of his objections. And lived to tell the tale.  
  
Hermione swallowed. She had done the right thing, hadn't she? Forced Snape to see that his ways weren't always the best and make him see that she wasn't a threat.  
  
That had been the right thing to do… hadn't it?  
  
The next few months were sure to be an adjustment, for both of them. For all of them. She could only pray that their personalities wouldn't cock the whole thing up.  
  
Perhaps a bit of distance would be appropriate. Just for now.


	8. What is Essential

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You know, Snape's a lot less scary when he's headmaster of only fifteen people."

"You  _what?_ "  
  
"I know…"  
  
"You what?"  
  
"I know, it was stupid of me."  
  
"I just—I can't believe you're still alive to tell the tale!"  
  
"Oh stop it. But yes, I am a bit surprised, too."  
  
"What in the hell were you thinking?"  
  
"I thought I was helping?"  
  
"Blimey, even I know better than to do that."  
  
"Will you give it a rest, Harry? You've made your bloody point."  
  
"I'm sorry, I'm just not used to you doing something stupid. This is all new to me. Ow!"  
  
"I still say it helped. They didn't quite interact with me, but they weren't afraid of me. That's progress."  
  
"Do you think that matters to him? Has a positive result obtained by disobeying him ever mattered to him?"  
  
"He's different now. We're different. That was a long time ago."  
  
"Yes, he's no longer the dungeon bat. He's like a grizzly bear protecting her cubs."  
  
"That's almost… sweet."  
  
"Snape, sweet?"  
  
"Yeah, doesn't quite sound right, does it?"  
  
"It very much does not."  
  
"And yet also fits."  
  
"If you say so."  
  
"It's complicated."  
  
"So… what happens now?"  
  
"I wait for an invitation to go back?"  
  
"I think you might be waiting a long time."  
  
"I think so too."  
  
\---------  
  
The little traitors.  
  
They actually asked him when Granger was coming back. Said they liked the story she read. Said they liked the way she read the story. Said they wanted to know how it ended.  
  
They had, against all odds, against everything Severus would have believed, already formed a connection with her. A bond. They wanted her back. They had never once, in five years, wanted anyone to come back.  
  
As furious as Severus still was that she had read to them, and that she had done so against his express instructions, but mostly because she read to them, he couldn't ignore progress when he saw it. Not when such steps were so rare and unexpected and precious.  
  
With a grimace and a grumble, he summoned a sheet of parchment.  
  
 _Granger,  
  
Do not ask me to understand why, but the children seem to prefer your shrill reading voice to mine, and have asked when you will come to finish Through the Looking Glass. While I would prefer that their heads not be filled with faerie stories on a regular basis, save for those based in fact on the Magical world, at least it has piqued their interest in reading.  
  
Please inform me of the next available evening you have.  
  
If you make me regret this, you will be lucky to remember your own name by the time I am through with you.  
  
S. Snape_  
  
Severus fell asleep reading to them that night. He had been out late visiting some of his graduates the night before, he was starting to feel ill, and he'd had no time to brew any Pepper-Up potion.  
  
He had told Granger that only he read to them. This was true. He had not mentioned that he occasionally let some of the younger ones curl up next to him while he did so. Severus was not an openly affectionate man or a warm man, but he knew that it gave them some comfort to be near a warm body, so he let them.  
  
That was the story he had prepared, anyway, should he ever be asked about it.  
  
He snored softly, as did the two boys and girl who had curled up near him and fallen asleep listening to the sound of his voice.  
  
In the morning, Severus would be grateful that Granger hadn't yet replied to his missive.  
  
He enjoyed these moments with them. He was loathe to give them up to someone else. But he knew it would be better for them if he did.  
  
So he did. For them. Reluctantly.  
  
\------------  
  
When Severus answered the door, he gave Granger his scariest Professor-Snape-Is-Watching-You-And-Merlin-Help-You-If-You-Make-A-Mistake glare. He had usually reserved it for Neville Longbottom. He had been particularly susceptible to its effects. He allowed himself a small internal smile at the memory.  
  
"Good evening, Severus," Granger said nervously.  
  
"You remember what I said in my owl?" he asked, raising one eyebrow.  
  
"I do."  
  
"Good."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"For?"  
  
"Inviting me back."  
  
Severus said nothing, but merely gave a curt nod and indicated for her to enter.  
  
Severus decided to stay in the ground floor sitting room this time, in the corner, out of sight. He was not concerned Granger would do anything stupid or dangerous. Rather, he wanted to see what it was about her that made the children wish for her presence, as opposed to the others who had been around them.  
  
He observed her closely. While he noticed the shine of the firelight glinting off her moist lips, and the way her eyes sparkled with the zest of a true lover of the written word, and how she licked her middle finger before turning each page (he paid especially close attention to the way her pink tongue darted out, grazed the pad of her middle finger, and then withdrew back between her lips), he couldn't pinpoint anything tangible that would make the children long for her presence. It was her presence, the way she carried herself, that seemed to draw them in.  
  
She was gentle and warm but kept her distance. She let them come to her, rather than force herself on them. Her voice was soothing yet commanding. She avoided eye contact yet formed a connection between herself and her audience. She gave them space and intimacy at the same time. She exuded confidence and compassion and warmth.  
  
Whatever it was, they responded to it.  
  
After one particularly amusing passage, Severus jerked his head up and leaned forward at the sound of something he thought he would never hear.  
  
Laughter. One of the children actually laughed.  
  
Granger apparently did not miss this either. Though she did not break in her reading, she looked up over their heads and met Severus's eyes, her pride and happiness evident in her expression. Severus could not help but allow a smile to break out over his own face. For only a moment. And when Granger mentioned it as she left that night, he denied it.  
  
"Well, how did I do?" she asked as she pulled on her coat to leave.  
  
She had held their attention for a sustained period of time and made one of them laugh out loud, two major milestones. How did the little chit think she had done? Of course, there was only one response.  
  
"Passable."  
  
He made sure he said it with a sneer.  
  
The woman might drive him absolutely insane, but he could not deny that she got results.  
  
He invited her back every night for the rest of the week. Under his supervision, of course. For their protection.  
  
\--------  
  
The second night went without incident. The children were visibly more relaxed than they had been the night before. Severus couldn't help but notice that they had taken seats slightly closer to Granger than to himself. They weren't avoiding him, he knew, but rather weren't cowering from Granger. Another step.  
  
He learned that night that it was possible to feel both warm and cold at the same time.  
  
\---------  
  
On the third night, Hermione's heart burst when a little girl with black hair and green eyes came to sit next to her as she read. It wasn't a cuddle, but on the same sofa, fairly close, and of her own volition.  
  
When she met Snape's eyes, she would swear that he saw moisture pooling in them.  
  
She knew better than to draw attention to it.  
  
But it wasn't lost on her that he stopped staring daggers in her direction after that.  
  
\----------  
  
As they sat in the ground floor sitting room on the fourth night, after the children had been sent to bed, he turned to her and asked her a serious question.  
  
"What are you doing here?"  
  
"Haven't I answered that question enough already?"  
  
"Granger, don't play stupid with me. Why are you really here?"  
  
"To help."  
  
"Granger…" he said in a warning tone.  
  
"I'm telling you the truth. I want to help. It's the least I can do. During the war… there were so many I could not save, so many things that happened outside of my control…"  
  
"There are other causes, other needy groups."  
  
"I think this is the neediest. They need us the most." She hesitated before speaking further. "And…"  
  
"And?"  
  
"And…"  
  
"And?"  
  
"And I wanted to help you, alright?"  
  
"You didn't know I was involved in this."  
  
"Not for certain, but I had guessed. Once I knew for certain, I knew I wanted to be involved."  
  
He raised an eyebrow, challenging the authenticity of her statement.  
  
"I'm serious. I'm alive because of you. Harry is alive because of you. You gave the Wizarding world a second chance at life… twice. Even if I didn't care about the welfare of the children—and I do very much—I would still be just as committed because I would want to do it for you."  
  
He averted her eyes. "There is no debt owed for anything I have done."  
  
"It's not about debt. It's about honour. Honouring you."  
  
Severus couldn't help himself. He square in the eye and skimmed the surface of her mind, not caring if she noticed.  
  
Remarkably, she seemed to believe every word she said.  
  
Even more remarkably, so did he.  
  
He would not ask again.  
  
That's dangerous, the voice warned him. She could be Occluding you. If anyone's smart enough to get away with it, it's her.  
  
Severus knew that she could do it. He just no longer believed that she would.  
  
\-----------  
  
On the fifth night, he found himself leaning his head back into the cushion of the armchair he sat in, letting the sound of her narration wash over him.  
  
He knew it was safe to close his eyes.  
  
\----------  
  
On the sixth night, he saw some of the children making eye contact with Granger and with each other.  
  
They still weren't interacting, but they were at least aware and acknowledging each other. It would be a long time before they properly played with each other, or related to one another. But they no longer seemed to reflexively fear the presence of other people.  
  
Granger made them feel safe, just like he did.  
  
\----------  
  
After a week of Granger's visits, in which the children all seemed more relaxed despite their continuing medical and psychological problems, Severus knew he wanted her there every night. With them. With him.  
  
He also decided that, given their relaxed state, it might be time to introduce the rest of the volunteers to them. It would be a gamble; the introduction of additional strangers might hurt. Equally, they might help.  
  
He hoped it wasn't a mistake to do so.  
  
\----------  
  
 _Breathe,_  he told himself,  _just breathe. Things are different now. You're both adults. He has no authority over you. He's not your Boggart anymore. He can't hurt you… right?_  
  
He shook his head and continued his internal pep talk.  _You told off Voldemort himself in front of Hogwarts and his lackeys and killed his snake, the final Horcrux. The Sword of Gryffindor came to you. Come off it. You're a teacher. He's a teacher. You will get on brilliantly. You're a grown man now. Are you really still afraid of your old potions teacher?_  
  
 _You mean, your old potions teacher who you actively incited rebellion against in your final year? Who now would have an actual reason to hate you?_  
  
Right, that one.  
  
Suddenly the front door opened with great force and a familiar looming figure stood in its place, standing before him nose–to-nose. Talk of the devil and he appears.  
  
"Longbottom! Stop gaping like a fish and get in here before somebody sees you. You've kept everyone waiting long enough while you stand out here no doubt trying to figure out the mechanics of using a simple door knocker. I had hoped you could keep time better than you could brew a simple burning salve. Clearly, when it comes to you, I live to be disappointed."  
  
With a gulp, Neville Longbottom entered Number 12, Grimmauld Place for his first afternoon of teaching.  
  
\---------  
  
It had been many years since Severus had attended a Muggle school or studied a Muggle subject, but he was fairly certain every word out of this woman's mouth was rubbish.  
  
"Now in South America there are no Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, but only because it's populated by their cousin, the Dimple-Horned Snorkack. And don't forget that here in the Amazon live woodsprites, little faeries who you can't see except out of the corner of your eye, leading you toward the flying piranhas…"  
  
The children were transfixed as Lovegood conjured holographic images of the creatures to float over their heads. Severus groaned rubbed his face with his palms. His only consolation was that the alternative was no instruction in geography, and that this was probably the best option.  
  
Probably.  
  
\---------  
  
"And here's one of him just waking up."  
  
"Potter, for the last time, I have no desire to sit here and look at pictures of your offspring! Now will you give a short flying lesson in the garden or not?"  
  
"Of course I will, Severus. In fact, I've already taken James up on a broom. He loved it; natural flier, he is. Think I've got a picture of it in here somewhere…"  
  
\---------  
  
Granger held two well-worn paperbacks out to him. "Which one shall I read next?"  
  
He took the books from her. "More Muggle faerie stories?"  
  
He really, really tried to make that sound sarcastic and disdainful. He failed.  
  
"They seemed to like the last one. So, which one?"  
  
He ran his fingertip over the cover of the first book, trying not to betray how much he loved this particular story. "This one," he said softly.  
  
She nodded and gave him a knowing smile as she took the volume back from him, as if she had known all along that he would select  _The Little Prince._  
  
\---------  
  
"Plants need water and sunshine to live, that's pretty much it. You can't really tell but plants actually breathe air, even though they have no lungs."  
  
The student stared at Neville with scepticism then all turned around in unison to look at Snape, who was standing in the back of the room, in confirmation. Neville wondered if Snape had taught them all how to raise a single eyebrow, for they all did it. He sighed, nodded, and they all turned back around again.  
  
"Right… well, plants absorb rain that falls to the ground by their roots. Think of them like long, skinny sponges…"  
  
\-----------  
  
"Do the children sleep well?" Luna asked Snape.  
  
He shook his head. "No, unfortunately. Most of them suffer nightmares, many suffer night terrors on a regular basis. They require intervention. Often they will help each other, but I am aware of it whenever it happens. At least one of them has an episode every night."  
  
"So you are not sleeping well either."  
  
His face was impassive. "I never have required much sleep."  
  
Luna nodded thoughtfully. "Nightmares are a manifestation of pain that has not been dealt with. They all have pain that they have suffered, continue to suffer. But the problem is that they need better sleep in order to be able to address this in real life."  
  
"I am aware of that, Lovegood."  
  
"Could they be given small doses of Dreamless Sleep?" Luna asked. "Just for awhile, to break the cycle?"  
  
Snape shook his head. "Absolutely not. It is a highly addictive substance, its effects can be debilitating on fully grown adults, and there is no way I will administer even a small dose to small children."  
  
"Well couldn't you create something that will help them sleep but not have those effects?"  
  
"I beg your pardon?"  
  
"You were the potions master for a whole generation of students. You invented spells and modified potions when you were even younger than we are now. Surely you could modify this one to be used safely on children." She smiled at him dreamily. "Or do I have you confused with the other Half Blood Prince?"  
  
"Lovegood," Snape said in a warning tone.  
  
"Oh dear, was that not the Half Blood Prince who did that? I apologise. I do confuse him sometimes."  
  
Snape opened his mouth as if to ask with whom, but decided against it. "Very well, Lovegood, I will see what I can do."  
  
"Brilliant," Luna said with a smile. "I think you will find that this alone will make a huge difference."  
  
She turned and walked out of the room, her long blond hair swaying behind her with each step, humming absently. She knew her reputation for being "Loony" Lovegood, and was not above using it to her advantage with others.  
  
Sometimes she wondered if she wouldn't have been good for Slytherin.  
  
\----------  
  
"I don't think you want to do that, Severus," Potter said. "I never paid attention in History of Magic and didn't even OWL in it. I didn't even finish the OWL in it."  
  
"I'm not asking you to do History of Magic; I have no desire to torture these children," Severus said. "I'm merely asking you to give a broad overview of the recent history of the UK. The basics. They'll need to know it eventually and they might as well begin now. Most of them are purebloods and have no idea."  
  
"I know a little bit about it, but I'm no expert."  
  
"I'm not asking for expertise. You were raised as a Muggle, you likely have more familiarity with the topic than you think. And if not, rectify that. Read a book, a newspaper, visit a website. Then remember what you read, tell it to them. That's it. It requires no intelligent or independent thought whatsoever on your part. Even you can manage that."  
  
"Wouldn't Hermione be a better person for this? She actually votes in Muggle elections and follows Muggle news."  
  
"No," Severus said firmly. "She reads to them at night."  
  
\-------------  
  
"Just take your pencils and draw me a picture of the last dream you remember having," Luna said brightly. "Even if it's scary or fuzzy."  
  
The children stared at their parchments warily, many of them having no desire to relive the things they saw behind their eyelids late at night.  
  
"Is this really a good idea?" Harry whispered to Luna. He, unlike Hermione, obeyed Snape's command to sit and observe without question. "Won't it make things worse?"  
  
She nodded. "Most of them aren't ready to talk about what happened to them. If they can express it in a picture, it would give me a place to start."  
  
Harry shrugged. "You're the Ravenclaw, I guess."  
  
\------------  
  
Snape still insisted on being present whilst she read to the children. He usually brought work with him.  
  
Hermione noticed that he never turned a page or made a single mark with his quill the entire time.  
  
She decided not to call him out on it. She didn't mind him sitting there. Not a bit.  
  
\------------  
  
"Now, Ramona, who is this person here that you drew?" Luna asked, pointing to a figure in a drawing.  
  
"My older brother, Randolph," Ramona Travers whispered. "He's a lot bigger than me."  
  
"How much bigger is Randolph than you?"  
  
"Twenty years older than me, Miss."  
  
"I see, so he's a very big brother. And what is Randolph doing in this picture?"  
  
"He's just sitting there, staring."  
  
"What is he staring at?"  
  
"Nothing. He just sits and stares at nothing."  
  
"Where does he do this?"  
  
"In the big stone tower in the ocean."  
  
"Does he do this with anyone else?"  
  
Ramona nodded. "With Mummy and Daddy."  
  
\----------  
  
"You know, Snape's a lot less scary when he's headmaster of only fifteen people," Neville mused over lunch at the Ministry canteen after his morning classes at Hogwarts and before his afternoon classes at Grimmauld Place.  
  
Hermione laughed. "Yes, well, he doesn't have a reptilian monster giving him orders this time, does he?"  
  
"He asked me to teach maths. Once. It was dreadful. He had to take over for me."  
  
"Are yours that bad?"  
  
"He seemed to think so. I would have thought he would ask you to do it. He doesn't have you teaching anything, does he?"  
  
"No, he only asks me to read to them in the evenings. He sits in and watches me do it every night."  
  
"I hear them talk about it, they seem to really enjoy it."  
  
"Who doesn't love a good book?"  
  
"They say it's the only time they ever see Snape sit and relax. He sits in every night? He's even stopped observing all of my classes, and he thinks I'm an idiot."  
  
"He doesn't think you're an idiot."  
  
"Right."  
  
"He also insists on having a say in what titles I read, too." Hermione shrugged. "He says he's concerned I'll fill their head with nonsense."  
  
"You? Nonsense? Has he  _met_  you?"  
  
\------------  
  
Snape's modified potion, which he had been able to create rather quickly since he was able to leave the children in the care of Neville or Luna or Harry or Hermione for hours while he brewed in the basement, had almost completely stopped the nightmares. He had been hesitant to use it, fearing that chemical dependency was not the solution, but finally acquiesced. Luna suspected it was because he himself was not getting any sleep and was at the end of his rope.  
  
He took great pains to assure everyone that this was merely temporary.  
  
With the nightmares gone, the children were more rested and better able to participate. When Luna began her therapy sessions, art therapy in particular, she noticed that all the children would work side by side but not really with each other. They definitely interacted, huddling together when frightened, but beyond that would not interact with each other short of any sort of upheaval. Now…they were passing each other supplies and even on occasion narrating their illustrations to each other.  
  
Luna could tell that a big problem with these children was an inability to socialise with others. With the exception of siblings who interacted frequently with each other, they almost all withdrew inwards and lived a solitary existence whilst in a large group.  
  
An end to nightmares was an end to paranoia in the dark, was a chance for escape and solitude. Eventually they began seeking out each other in their waking lives. They wanted to talk to each other, at least a little bit. This told Luna that they were progressing. They sought comfort from other people, rather than bottle up the fear and pain inside and let it out in their dreams.  
  
The drawings were still horrific and heartbreaking, and the children were definitely not socialising in a normal way. But it was a start.  
  
\--------------  
  
"You know, Severus," Potter said. "They are really looking better—the kids."  
  
"It's the cooking of that accursed House Elf," Severus replied shortly.  _Why the hell was he making small talk with Potter?  
  
Because you've completely lost control of your own life, _said the voice.  
  
"Makes a difference, doesn't it? Being cared for like that."  
  
"They finally get to eat something real on a regular basis," he elaborated, hating himself for being drawn into a conversation. "And thanks to the modified potion they are sleeping more. It all makes a difference. Glastonbury could never spare money for more than gruel. They were malnourished. It was positively Dickensian."  
  
"Positively what?"  
  
"Dickens—never mind."  
  
\----------  
  
"You want to take them out… to the zoo?" Severus said slowly in his very best you-are-an-idiot voice reserved for the slowest students in his classes.  
  
Lovegood nodded. "The smaller magical zoo in Kew, of course, not the big Muggle one. They're healthier now, psychologically and physically, and I think some socialisation outside among other people might do them good. They are interacting with each other in a controlled environment. I would like to see if they can handle a foreign one. They need to leave the house eventually, you know."  
  
"I cannot spend a day at the zoo. I have too much work here."  
  
"You wouldn't have to—Neville and I will take them."  
  
Severus hesitated. Leave the children in the hands of Lovegood and Longbottom? Only Lovegood and Longbottom?  
  
"Don't you trust my judgment?"  
  
Severus spared her a glare.  
  
"They really can handle it, I'm sure of it. The art therapy has done wonders for them. Haven't you noticed that some of them have stopped using the potion and yet the nightmares have still abated? And that they're eating more? And that they're even acting like normal children on occasion—smiling and laughing and playing with each other, instead of next to each other?"  
  
Severus really didn't want to concede that Luna Lovegood was right about anything.  
  
"I promise I won't talk to them about Snorkacks anymore."  
  
"Enjoy the zoo, Miss Lovegood."  
  
\----------  
  
The children all bent over their parchments, tracing over the diagrams and practicing their very own joined-up writing. Little tongues stuck out of the corners of their mouths in concentration as they tried to master the use of quills, which were much harder for little fingers to manipulate than Muggle pens. Longbottom walked between them, offering words of encouragement or pausing to help with technique. He would demonstrate to the class as a whole by swishing his wand and tracing letters in the air in Gryffindor red so they could see.  
  
Severus smirked. He may have been completely useless when it came to potions, but Longbottom did have beautiful handwriting. Penmanship had been the only obstacle between Longbottom and a permanent T in his classes.  
  
Not that Severus had told him so, of course. His request had been more along the lines of, "Longbottom, your ridiculously effeminate handwriting has to be of some use in this world. And since you're completely hopeless when it comes to maths, you might be of some use after all."  
  
\-------  
  
 _Granger,  
  
Is there any chance you might begin selecting less fanciful texts and ones that would be more applicable to their lives and practical for the future?  
  
SS  
  
\-------  
  
Severus,  
  
These children are growing up in a world full of unicorns and leprechauns and ghosts and magic and gryphons and hippogriffs, and you're concerned that stories like Peter Pan and The Jungle Books and The Princess Bride are too fanciful for them?  
  
Did you write that with a straight face?  
  
In other words, not a chance, Professor. If you want to narrate potions textbooks to them, you do it on your own time. See you this evening.  
  
Hermione.  
  
Granger,  
  
I look forward to it.  
  
SS_  
  
To his own chagrin, he found that he really did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three months, give or take, pass in this chapter.
> 
> Severus selects The Little Prince (Le Petit Prince) by Antoine de Saint-Exupery, a tale of love and loneliness with the beautiful line, "One sees clearly only with the heart. What is essential is invisible to the eye." It seemed like the kind of story that Severus would have been drawn to as both a child and an adult. Even if only for the title ;)
> 
> This chapter marks a bit of a transition in the story. As the children's situation improves, the adults' story will begin to shift toward the forefront. Don't worry, the kids will still be as huge and central a part of the story as they have been. They will just share the spotlight from now on. And don't worry, I haven't forgotten about the older ones.
> 
> Coming Up: A scream, a conversation, and what the heck "Just to Be" means.


	9. Just to Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What do you want, Hermione? If you could be anything, and you can be anything, without concern for the challenge or the practicality of it, what would you choose to be?"

Ermengarde Rosier sat bolt upright in bed, covered in sweat. Leopold's arms were around her in an instant, rocking her and whispering soothing words into her ear. She quieted down almost immediately. Mr. Snape almost never needed to come in when Ermengarde suffered nightmares. Leopold was glad. This was his little sister; she was his responsibility. No one else's.  
  
"Nightmare?" He asked softly. She nodded.  
  
"The same thing you always dream about?"  
  
She shook her head. "No, no, this was different. I can't even remember what I dreamt about."  
  
Leopold's hold stiffened for a moment, and then relaxed. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"  
  
"I don't know," Ermengarde replied. Brother and sister sat in the darkness for a long time, clinging to each other, saying nothing. "Leopold?" she finally said softly, breaking the silence.  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"What do you think Brigita's doing right now?"  
  
"Sleeping, I hope."  
  
"But what do you think she was doing earlier today? At Hogwarts?"  
  
"I bet… I bet she was flying across the lake on a big hippogriff. Just like Mr. Potter did when he was there." Leopold really, really wanted to believe this. But he hadn't received an owl from Brigita in over a year, and she hadn't returned home for summer the holidays after her second year.  
  
"I bet Brigita would have liked that."  
  
"Me too."  
  
"Leo?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Do you like it here?"  
  
He thought long and hard before answering. "Yes, I do."  
  
"Me too," Ermengarde said with a sigh. "It feels like home."  
  
\------------  
  
It all happened very suddenly.  
  
Miss Granger had long since finished Peter Pan and had moved on to The Secret Garden when suddenly Margaret Macnair began shaking, quietly shaking. Then she had begun to breathe very deeply and quickly, but try as she might, she couldn't seem to inhale any air. She didn't know what caused it—one moment she was fine, and now here she was, a tightness in her chest, shaking, breathing, she couldn't breathe, she had to breathe…  
  
And then she started screaming. Screaming at the top of her lungs. Screaming until her throat hurt. High-pitched, blood-curdling screams of terror.  
  
The worst part was, she had no idea why.  
  
Hermione froze and looked up at Snape, who had bolted from the back of the room to Margaret's side in no time at all, pulling her to his chest and rubbing her back in soothing circles as he rocked her. She knew he saw the helplessness in her eyes as she scrambled for something to do.  
  
"Has she ever done this before? What do you normally do?" she asked frantically over the girl's screams.  
  
Snape shook his head. "She's never had an attack this bad before."  
  
Hermione bit her lower lip (a habit that had taken her years to stop) and glanced around her. The children were still there, clearly frightened and yet not frightened at the same time. They were just…there. Should they be watching this? Should they go to bed?  
  
Snape seemed to read her thought process and said in a very even and calm voice, "Bed." Fourteen pairs of little legs scrambled to obey him.  
  
Hermione searched around the room some more, spotting the fire. The floo. "Luna!" She said suddenly. "Severus, should we call Luna over here? Maybe she can help."  
  
"I'll do it." No one could floo-call Luna's flat right now but him. The adults could floo to and from their own homes, but that was it. They couldn't floo anywhere else or even make a floo call. For security reasons. He had set the ward himself.  
  
Untangling Margaret from his torso, promising her that it would only be for a moment and that he would be right back, which only made her wail louder, Snape was on his knees with his head in the fire in a flash.  
  
\---------  
  
"Lovegood? Lovegood! I need you to—oh, what, Longbottom? What the—never mind. Throw some clothes on and get over here this instant. Miss Macnair is having a severe panic attack." He pulled his head out of the fire quickly, trying to make himself forget the sight of Longbottom's pasty white arse undulating before him.  
  
Thankful that neither Granger nor Margaret heard his end the conversation, he withdrew his head from the floo and calmly informed them that, "She'll be over shortly," as if he had not just seen anything untoward. Granger nodded.  
  
Severus crossed the room in two long strides and pulled the girl into his lap again. She clung to him tightly and wrapped her arms and legs around his torso as she sobbed and struggled to catch her breath. He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly, willing her to calm down. "Hush, Maggie," he whispered too low for anyone but her to hear. "I'm right here, I've got you, I'll take care of you, I won't let anyone hurt you. You're safe."  
  
He looked over the girl's shoulder to see Granger standing against the wall next to the fire, silent and still. Her face and body appeared calm but her eyes held nothing but fear. Not fear for herself, Severus was sure, but fear for the child. In the months since they had come to Grimmauld Place, Granger had not seen any of the children break down. Ariadne Carrow had a nightmare once in her presence, but that was quite easily dealt with. Ariadne's nightmares were never that bad, and she almost always could be persuaded to return to sleep within a few minutes. She had not accompanied him to meet with any of his graduates, save that one night with Potter. She had not even stayed the night in her old room, though he continued to keep it for her in case she ever needed it. It was like that night in the brothel all over again—Granger wanting to help but being confronted with pain and terror like that she had never experienced, she was completely immobilized and, frankly, useless to him. She probably had not seen this coming. She had likely heard nothing but impressive reports on the progress of the children psychologically and educationally and socially.  
  
But none of them were here in the evenings or at night, like he was. While the children were much more well-adjusted than they had been upon arrival here, and had far fewer night terrors (for which he grudgingly had Lovegood to thank), they were still badly traumatised and damaged. Granger was out of the loop and unable to cope. He would have to rectify that.  
  
In a flash of emerald flames Lovegood stepped out of the floo with her ever-present smile and vacant blue eyes. Her lips were a bit swollen and her waist-length blond hair was a bit mussed. Longbottom soon followed, furiously patting down his wild hair, his eyes on the floor, his face the colour of a tomato.  
  
"Good evening, Severus," Lovegood said pleasantly, as if he had not caught her in flagrante delicto not five minutes earlier, which allowed her to accomplish the rare feat of making Severus feel uneasy. She knelt down to be level with the screaming, sobbing child in his arms. "Margaret," she said softly, and began to tend to the girl as best she could while she clung to Severus's torso, her face buried in his chest.  
  
Longbottom stood in the sitting room with the look of a man who had no idea where he was or what he was doing there. Not quite meeting Severus's eye, he said, "Right, I'm just…" and turned and hurried to the kitchen. Severus rolled his eyes.  
  
Soon Lovegood encouraged Margaret to begin to breathe in time with her. Inhaling through the nose, exhaling through the mouth, in long, controlled breaths. Inhale, hold, exhale. He could feel her little body struggle to control itself, and he paced his breathing along with Lovegood's in order to soothe the girl and get her to regulate her own breathing. The process seemed similar to the controlled breathing Severus had used back when he first began to practise Occlumency. It cleared the mind of emotions by forcing the body to become calm even when the person was in an agitated state. Tricking the body into feeling relaxed, in a way.  
  
The thought occurred to Severus that Occlumency might be an advisable skill for these children to learn; to separate the darkness of the past with the present, to try to prevent their emotions from getting the best of them and leading to trouble with other students at Hogwarts. Sometimes Occlumency was best learned young, fewer mental obstacles and learned behaviours to overcome. At the same time, these were some of the oldest children he had ever met, and there were real horrors in their past.  
  
He remembered his training with Potter, and of everything Potter had seen and experienced and lived through by that time, and conceded that it may not have only been the boy's idiocy and propensity to wear his heart on his sleeve that had prevented him from even the most elementary skill. Maybe Occlumency was too risky for this group. He would have to think on it.  
  
Margaret was breathing more calmly now, in the even breaths that Lovegood had taught her, and tears were streaming down her cheeks and dampening the front of his shirt. Severus didn't mind one bit. He held her close and hummed a low tune, so low that hopefully Lovegood wouldn't be able to hear. When he looked closely enough, he saw that there were tears in Granger's eyes too. Lovegood took one of the girl's hands whispered phrases like "happens to everyone" and "brave girl."  
  
Letting go gently of the girl's hands and whispering, "I'll be right back," she got up and gestured for Severus to follow her. Reluctantly he released the girl and ordered Granger over to the sofa.  
  
"Just for a moment, Maggie," he whispered. He set the girl in Granger's lap, from which she followed his dark form across the room, never once taking her eyes off him. He made sure to stand where she could see him.  
  
"Has this ever happened to her before?" Lovegood asked.  
  
Severus shook his head, rubbing his palm across his brow. He was not surprised to find it a bit sweaty. This had been intense. "She's had panic attacks before but never anything of this magnitude; typically I can calm her down within a few moments and it's as if it never happened. I've never seen her in such a state. Not even when they were back…there."  
  
Lovegood nodded. "I see."  
  
"What do you think?"  
  
"She's better now than she was when I arrived but not quite right yet. I'm not sure what triggered it and I don't think she does either, sometimes these things just happen." She dropped her voice a bit and leaned in to whisper, "She should sleep this off. Is she too young to take a calming draught?"  
  
Severus shook his head. "Not a low dose. I'll go dilute it in some pumpkin juice for her." Lovegood smiled and nodded, and Severus swept into the kitchen.  
  
Longbottom was sitting at the long table, contemplating his cup of coffee as if it held all of life's answers, and sat up with a start when he saw Severus.  
  
Brushing past him to get to the potions cabinet, which he had charmed to keep locked from everyone but him, he said, "Don't worry Longbottom—I'm not here to comment on your lamentably amateur technique. No one wishes to forget the scene more than I. And unfortunately for you, since I know that you cannot be taught even the most basic of skills, I cannot offer you any suggestions for improvement except to hope that Miss Lovegood has no basis for comparison."  
  
He wasn't sure how it happened, but suddenly his back was up against the door and Longbottom was standing face-to-face with him, wand drawn and pointed at his neck. He smirked.  
  
"There are so few things in my life that I am proud of," Longbottom said through clenched teeth. "What I have with Luna is one of them, I will not have your thoughtless words make me second-guess one bloody second of it. Do you understand?"  
  
Severus held his hands up in mock surrender, and Longbottom withdrew his wand and returned to his seat at the kitchen table, flushed.  
  
Severus took the vial and poured a small amount into a goblet and mixing in a generous amount of pumpkin juice. He considered that, damaged as he likely was by the war, it had truly turned Longbottom into a man. A man who defended himself and what was important to him. Begrudgingly, Severus could not help but respect him for that.  
  
"You do realise, Longbottom, that had I wanted to defend myself, I would have?"  
  
"I do."  
  
"And that if you ever stick your wand in my face again, I will do more than just disarm you?"  
  
Longbottom nodded.  
  
"So long as we understand each other."  
  
\-----------  
  
Snape took the girl back onto his lap and gently coaxed her to drink the juice, saying it would make her feel better and help her sleep. Margaret did so slowly, never taking her eyes off of him. A few seconds later, she fell against his chest, softly whimpering as he gently stroked her hair. After a few minutes, her breathing evened out and she slipped into a deep sleep.  
  
"I'll take her upstairs," Luna offered, pulling the limp child from his arms. Luna, in addition to her cutting insight, her borderline-insane beliefs, and inability to be flustered by anything, had the strength of a fully-grown man. "Which room is she in?"  
  
"Third floor, second door to the right," Snape replied, reluctantly letting go of Margaret, clearly struggling to retain a detached air about the situation. He was fooling no one. "Are you sure you wouldn't like me to do it?"  
  
"No, I think you have unfinished business down here," Luna whispered merrily, so quietly that only Severus could hear. "Don't worry, Neville and I will be going soon and you two can have the house to yourselves."  
  
Snape gave her a murderous glare, but Luna merely smiled and turned toward the stairs, where Hermione was standing.  
  
"This was as much a shock for you as it was for her. I don't think you should sleep alone after this," Luna whispered to her. "I mean, in an empty flat. I know I won't be." Hermione looked at her quizzically as Luna gently made her way up the stairs.  
  
Luna was probably right that she shouldn't sleep in her empty flat after this. She had a hard enough time relaxing enough to fall asleep as it was, and the little girl's blood-curdling screams had awakened some unpleasant memories of the past.  
  
Sometimes, Hermione knew, it was best to sleep in close proximity to a warm body, even if it was in a bed across the hall.  
  
She walked to a dark corner and surreptitiously cast her Patronus. Harry still liked to know if she stayed anywhere out of the ordinary for a night, just to be sure she was safe. "Harry, just so you know, I'm staying at Grimmauld Place tonight if you need anything. Give Ginny my love." The otter spun out of the window and into the darkness. She spared a glance over her shoulder; Snape seemed lost in thought and apparently hadn't noticed. Good. All she needed was him making some sort of snappish remark about her checking in with Harry every five minutes. She normally enjoyed verbally sparring with him, but tonight she was too exhausted.  
  
At that point, Luna made her way down the stairs. "She's sleeping," she said cheerfully. "She'll be fine, but you might give her a bit of extra attention tomorrow," she said, turning to Snape. He nodded.  
  
"Neville?" Luna called. Neville slowly came out of the kitchen, not looking at Snape. Taking Luna's proffered hand, they tossed in some floo powder and disappeared for the night. Snape approached the fire and waved his wand over it.  
  
"What's that for?" Hermione asked.  
  
"Closing it. Security," he replied.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"I secure all methods of entry and exit every night," Snape replied. "You've merely never been here this late before."  
  
Hermione nodded. "No, I suppose I haven't." She hesitated, then spoke. "Speaking of which, after everything that happened tonight, I don't feel quite right leaving, so I think…I think I'll stay in my room upstairs tonight."  
  
She wasn't asking permission. Snape nodded. "As you wish."  
  
"I mean," Hermione kept talking. Why do I always keep talking? "Just… sometimes it feels wrong to be alone. Do you know what I mean?"  
  
Snape nodded. "I do." Giving her a thoughtful look, he asked, "Will you go to sleep now?"  
  
Hermione shook her head. "I don't normally do this, but I think I might need a drink to settle my mind. Do you keep anything here?"  
  
He nodded. "Between you and me, I find I need a drink most nights too. I keep a bottle of Ogden's in the desk in my bedroom. Unfortunately it is all I can offer you, but I would be willing to share it."  
  
"I'd like that."  
  
\----------  
  
"Can I ask you about Margaret?" Granger asked. They were seated on the sofa nearest the fireplace, staring into the flames, each holding a half-empty glass of firewhisky.  
  
It was a dangerous business, Severus knew, drinking with another person. Firewhisky was as effective as Veritaserum with him. His defences dropped and his walls crumbled. The last time he'd drunk in the company of another was back in the Headmaster's office towar the end of the war; he'd told Phineas Nigellus Black the story of him and Lily, something he unfortunately lived to regret. The damn portrait brought it up every time they saw each other, and now he was trapped in this house with the smirking Slytherin's other portrait. Severus had had to resort to casting a silencing charm on it and banish the frame to the cellar.  
  
He would have to be careful.  
  
"Severus?"  
  
Granger's voice snapped him out of his reverie. "Margaret?" she asked again.  
  
Severus nodded. "Why she had the attack?" Granger nodded. Severus took a longer sip of his drink and tapped his wand to refill it before he began.  
  
"The Death Eaters were as evil and malicious and disgusting a group of people who ever walked this Earth and I will be ashamed that I ever counted myself among their number for the rest of my life.  
  
"However, despite this, some of them were wonderful parents. You may remember that Narcissa Malfoy betrayed the Dark Lord at the very last moment in order to protect her son. She was not the only one. There were, surprisingly, many good parents in that group.  
  
"Unfortunately, Walden Macnair and his wife were not among them. They had wanted a son and tried for many years before having their daughter, and he was so ashamed of her that he gave her a Muggle name. That is one of the biggest insults a Death Eater can bestow on a child, by the way. She was abused, and then her parents were killed and she was taken to the Ministry as a very young child. I trust you get the picture without me having to elaborate?"  
  
Granger shook her head. "What a terrible blow," she said softly. "Harry grew up in a neglectful and, I think, abusive household after the loss of his parents, but he at least was able to escape to something better. And he clung, and still clings, to the knowledge that his parents loved him very much. To not even have that…" She trailed off.  
  
"You seem… affected," Severus said finally.  
  
Granger nodded. "Pathetic, isn't it?" She had intended to leave it at that, but Snape gave her a look that silently urged her to elaborate, and she continued to speak. "I saw a lot in the war. I watched friends die, I watched enemies fall, I lived in complete isolation and utter chaos at the same time. And then it all ended so suddenly and so completely, I was able to just box it away and not deal with it. But seeing these children, what they go through every day, really see it… it's hard. It brings back all those things that I saw that I promised myself I would forget.  
  
"I suppose it's like an injury," she mused, swirling the amber liquid in the tumbler. "When you receive a serious injury, your body will shut down the pain to enable you to survive, to get to a point of safety. Only later, when you have the presence of mind to think about it again, your body allows you to feel the pain and forces you to deal with it. In the war, all that pain and loss… I was able to just forget about it and push on. I needed to; I don't think I would have made it through otherwise without cracking up completely. And I guess after the war, to survive and keep my head together, I had to put away the pain and just push through. I hadn't really stopped to think about it, but I suppose I've been pushing through pain for six years now without really realising that I still feel it. The pain."  
  
She turned and looked at him, her brown eyes slightly glazed due to the fire and the late hour and the alcohol. "I suppose I have you to thank for that."  
  
"Yes, I do seem to have a particular talent for making people feel pain, " Severus said evenly.  
  
"Not you, the circumstances," Granger said. "I mean it when I said I have you to thank. There's so much I haven't dealt with, and now maybe it's time that I did. Or at least acknowledge to myself that I haven't."  
  
Severus was surprised at Granger's openness. She was normally reserved about her fears and emotions, at least according to Potter. He supposed the alcohol had loosened her lips. Those lips that glistened in the light of the fire as she spoke. His too. This was why he never drank with anyone else. His mannerisms, his gestures, his expressions, his words could all become unguarded. Too unguarded.  
  
"Do you experience any… lingering effects?" Severus asked, hoping she would say no but knowing she would say yes.  
  
Granger nodded. "I'm sure you've noticed that Harry and I are a bit… jumpy when it comes to sudden noises. It used to be much worse; we used to dive to the ground whenever Crookshanks would knock a pen onto the floor. Now, it's more of a reaction, keeping our wits about us. My wand is always at the ready, even now I could have it out in a flash if I thought it was necessary. Um… I don't believe I've slept completely through the night once in six years without the aid of a potion, and always with a light on, or at least a fire. I feel the need to know where Harry and Ron are at all times, and they me. If I haven't heard from them for a couple of days I start to worry. Even though I know that it's probably nothing, I still want to be sure."  
  
She took another swallow of her drink and kept talking. "The Weasleys… well, they're not the people they used to be. It's like they've been hollowed out. Losing Fred was just… it broke them. Ron and Molly and George, especially. So I feel like I've lost my other family, in a way. Harry was a mess. He drank a lot in that first year after the war, trying to forget. Ginny helped him stop and now he doesn't touch the stuff. I suspect he might have tried some drugs too, but I can't be sure. If he did, it was only briefly and he's long since stopped. And me... I've never had many friends in my life, but I find that I've not made a single friend since the war ended. Haven't wanted to. Except for you."  
  
She had called him her friend. He didn't correct her.  
  
Granger had been staring into the fire whilst delivering her monologue, but now she turned to Severus and tilted her head a bit as she looked at him. "I think it's a great thing that you're doing here. With the children," she segued.  
  
Severus sighed. "I don't know if it's a great thing. I try. But I feel that I have failed every day these past five years."  
  
"How can you say that?"  
  
"How can I not say that? My charges have ended up in brothels and prison and on the street. That's hardly a rousing tale of success."  
  
"You give them a chance not to have that life," Granger said. "But you cannot control their actions and decisions once they are out of your care."  
  
"I'm fighting a losing battle. Me against the entire Wizarding World. Sadly, a position with which I am quite familiar, which means I very much understand how bleak the prospects are for success."  
  
"You don't really believe that," Granger said softly.  
  
"I very much do, Granger," he said.  
  
"Hermione. And I refuse to believe that you believe that. If you did, why even bother?"  
  
He paused before responding. The alcohol was working its magic on him. The crackling fire and the lateness of the hour also helped. He could feel his shields slipping off of him, and found he did not care. "Because I did not feel I had the option not to."  
  
"This is more than an obligation. You have no obligation to them. You know that and I know that."  
  
"Granger, if you ever orphan a child, and I sincerely hope that you never do, you will understand what I mean."  
  
"You think I don't know what it is to take a life? To think about the people—the family and children—I have forever robbed?" Granger sat up straight and looked him pointedly in the eye. "Severus Snape, I may not have quite the experience you do, but do not think that I emerged from the war with clean hands."  
  
For a long time neither said anything. They drank their whisky and looked into the fire. Severus summoned the bottle and topped them both up, and they drank more.  
  
"Why are you an auditor?" Severus asked finally.  
  
"I wanted to move into MLE and this was the only position available." She shrugged. "It's a first job, not a last job. A foot in the door, if you will."  
  
"I cannot imagine that you, of all people, need a foot in the door at the Ministry of fucking Magic, what with your fame and your record and your relationship with Shacklebolt," Severus said.  
  
"Bureaucracy works in mysterious ways," Granger said with a false smile.  
  
"You're wasting your talents there."  
  
"No I'm not. Once I get to a high enough position I will be able to work on real policy matters, like changing the pro-pureblood laws that existed even before the war. From there I can change attitudes and prevent another conflict from ever happening again. After Grindelwald fell everyone sighed with relief, and then we got Voldemort—"  
  
"Don't say his name!"  
  
"And who knows who will come after him? I need to do this. If I can change attitudes, I can stop it. I have to."  
  
"If you think you will change anything via the Ministry, then I have sorely misjudged your intelligence all these years." He sat up and leaned toward her for emphasis, his eyes meeting hers. "You were not born to be a bureaucrat, Hermione. I have many disappointments about our so-called Brave New World, but among the greatest of them is watching you squander yourself. You spending your career there is a waste of your talent and your intelligence."  
  
He looked away and took a generous drink of his whisky. He hadn't meant to use her given name. He knew she'd noticed. Probably also noticed that he had paid her a sincere compliment.  
  
Maybe he'd had more to drink than he'd realised. Maybe he was betraying too much that he would have preferred to keep hidden. And yet he did not summon a sober-up potion. He stayed there, with her, on the sofa. He was close enough that could touch her thigh without having to stretch himself. If he wanted to.  
  
Granger looked pensive and tense and did not look at him. "I am fine with my choices," she said finally.  
  
"Are you?"  
  
"Yes. Every single one."  
  
"No one is happy with every choice," Severus retorted. "To claim that you are is to lie to me and to lie to yourself."  
  
"If you're asking me to sit here, drink in hand, in the dark, late at night, to wallow in regret about my decisions, the answer is no. I don't brood."  
  
"I'm not asking you to."  
  
"Then what are you asking me to do?"  
  
"I am asking you to be honest."  
  
"I am being honest. Am I happy with every choice I've ever made? Of course not. Would I do some things differently if I could? Absolutely. But I am at peace with myself for what I have done. I do not believe in sitting around, regretting what has happened. I can't change everything I've ever done. Regret is something I try to avoid. It is unproductive and downright depressing."  
  
Another silence passed.  
  
"What would you have me do with my blessed intellect instead?" Granger finally asked.  
  
"Anything but work for that corrupt body," Severus said instantly, staring into the fire. The firewhisky was firmly in his system now, and the native Northern accent he spent his life suppressing was beginning to peek through. "You are one of the most talented pupils to ever grace the halls of Hogwarts—even I had to admit that. To see you as a low-level paper-pushing bureaucrat is possibly one of the greatest disappointments to which I awoke.  
  
"You would do well in teaching—you can command the attention and focus of a group of special-needs children, so a typical Hogwarts classroom full of mouth-breathing dunderheads would be no problem for you. You would also do adequately in research and development. Your essays for my class may have been pedantic and overly-reliant on the words of a textbook and completely lacking any original thought, but there are many industries in which such a 'skill' would be an asset.  
  
"Really, though, Granger," he said, turning to her. "I honestly would be satisfied if you chose any path so long as it required you to use that troublesome, overly-active, know-it-all brain of yours. Because right now, I seriously doubt that you even can in that job."  
  
He had never spoken so honestly, so complimentary, to anyone, at least not in recent memory, without throwing in some sort of sarcastic remark or insult to punctuate the comments. Severus blamed the way the fire made her lips shine and her eyes sparkle, blamed the late hour that made her voice soft and seductive, blamed the whisky for tearing down his walls.  
  
Yet he did not regret a word he had said to her.  
  
Granger sat there, still, processing what he had said to her. "It was easy," she finally said. "It was a job I in which I could do well and rise up. A job where I could count on easy praise for my work. I needed praise. After all the challenges I had faced, I didn't believe I could face another challenge in my life." She met his eye and gave him a bit of a wry smile. "I suppose I had never really thought of it before."  
  
She drained the rest of her glass and leaned closer to him. "But then again, Severus, you always were one to make me question the world and myself, and really use my overly-active, know-it-all brain. Weren't you?"  
  
Severus drained the rest of his glass and set it down on the side table with a little more force than was probably necessary. "I suppose I was," he said softly. He leaned in toward her a little bit more.  
  
Granger smiled. "It can be a dangerous business, instigating someone to think," she whispered.  
  
"I will endeavor to watch my step, then." He absently brushed away an errant curl that had fallen in her face. "What do you want, Hermione? If you could be anything, and you can be anything, without concern for the challenge or the practicality of it, what would you choose to be?"  
  
Granger sighed and spoke in a voice that betrayed pain and honesty. "I want to be… just to be…" she trailed off. She seemed a bit lost for words, as if she had not contemplated the end of the sentence when she began it. After a moment she smiled a bit and said. "That. Just that. Just to be."  
  
 _Just to be._  He understood that sentiment. He imagined all the possibilities that could fill the blank she had left in her statement. Just to be normal, just to be content, just to be anonymous in crowds, just to be calm. Just to be free from always fighting endless uphill battles only to walk away empty-handed. Just to be able to successfully care for these children without watching them walk away and slip through the cracks. Just to be the man these children both needed and deserved. Just to be able to feel something other than pain or regret or disappointment. Just to be his own man. Just to be at peace. Just to be free. Just to be anyone but Severus Snape.  
  
What he wouldn't give just to  _be_.  
  
"What about you, Severus?" Granger said. "What would you choose to be?"  
  
His answer surprised even him.  
  
"This. I may not have sought any of this, but I am exactly where I know I should be and where I want to be."  
  
Whether he did it because of the glow of the fire or the lateness of the hour or the effect of the alcohol or the bare honesty that had opened up between them, he could not say. He leaned in further and touched her cheek, drew his thumb across her jaw line, and softly pressed his lips to hers.  
  
Granger didn't pull away. She responded in kind. It was not a drunken kiss, or a passionate kiss, or an urgent kiss. It was an honest kiss.  
  
"Hermione," Severus said softly as they pulled apart, but not too far apart. "Are you drunk?"  
  
She shook her head. "No."  
  
He knew she knew herself well enough to give an honest answer.  
  
"Good."  
  
He leaned in again to press his lips against hers. Hermione's lips, the ones that had glistened in the dying light of the fire.  
  
"Hermione…" he whispered. Tonight, and after tonight, she would no longer be Granger. Whatever happened next between them, she was, and always would be, Hermione.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
It had been so, so long since he had been in this situation with a woman, he didn't know what to do. He didn't want to mess this up the way he tended to mess everything else up in his life. They had formed a partnership and-dare he say it-friendship. How would this change that? Severus opened his mouth to speak again, but the words caught in his throat. What if she said no? Could he handle the rejection? Worse, what if she said yes? What impact would that have? What impact would this, whatever this was, have on them?  
  
Seeming to sense his nervousness, and visibly trying to hid her own, she stood up and extended her hand to him. Taking it, he followed her as she led him quietly up the stairs, thankful to have handed off the decision to someone else.  
  
"Do they all sleep through the night?"  
  
"Not all of them, not every night."  
  
She stopped. "Should I…?"  
  
He shook his head. "No. I will go to them if they need me. They don't come to me, even when it's just us here."  
  
"Are they afraid to?"  
  
"No, they just know that I will be there when they need me."  
  
"And you always are, aren't you?"  
  
He nodded.  
  
She gave him a smile. "You're a good man, Severus Snape."  
  
He shook his head and opened his mouth to protest, but she captured him in another kiss before he had the chance.  
  
"Hermione, I…"  _I don't have much experience with relationships. I don't have much experience, full stop. It's been a very, very long time for me. I don't want you to be disappointed._  
  
"It's been a long time for me," she whispered. "Maybe we can… go slow and see what happens?"  
  
He relaxed at her confession. "I would like that very much."  
  
He cast a Patronus for each floor and followed her into her bedroom, shutting the door quietly and leaving it unlocked in case he was called out in the middle of the night.  
  
It did not occur to him for many hours that the niggling voice in his mind had not appeared once during their entire conversation.  
  
\------------  
  
Hermione spent the night in her bedroom in Grimmauld Place for the first time in months, and, taking her friend's advice, did not spend it alone. Luna was right; it was exactly what she needed.  
  
She awoke early the next morning, before the sunrise, to find Severus lying beside her, his arm draped lazily around her waist, watching her. She smiled at him sleepily and leaned in to his touch. He pulled her close to his chest and placed a kiss on her temple.  
  
"So… now what?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know about you, but I find Severus in "father mode" to be incredibly sexy.
> 
> Severus's thoughts about Hermione's career choices are spoken in the Voice Of The Author. I was immensely disappointed that this her canon future; Hermione working for the Ministry in any capacity other than Minister (which I would even argue she wouldn't be well-suited for) is a complete waste of her intellect.
> 
> [2016 Edit/Cursed Child SPOILER: And JKR apparently agreed with me!]
> 
> Coming up: The morning after, and then some.


	10. Now What?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Severus?"
> 
> "Hmm?"
> 
> "What was it like, being in a coma for a year?"
> 
> "Tedious."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll notice in this chapter a bit of a shift in the narrative style. Now that their relationship has become a bit, ahem, closer, Severus and Hermione's POVs will merge and there will no longer be segment breaks when the POVs shift between them. Their thoughts and perspectives will still be their own, but within the same segments and sort of flow from one to the other. Cool? Let's proceed, then.

Harry Potter was ecstatic. No, beyond ecstatic. It was everything he had ever wanted, and Ginny was giving it to him.  
  
He was going to be a father again.  
  
Last time, he and Ginny had waited a few months to inform everyone of her pregnancy. But this time, after experiencing it once and knowing it would be just as wonderful the second time around…Harry couldn't wait.  
  
And of course, news like this was not fit for an owl or a Patronus. He would tell his friends—his family—in person.  
  
He Apparated to Diagon Alley and ran up the stairs to Ron's flat above Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. He pounded on the door and called, "Ron! Ron!"  
  
Ron opened the door quickly, wand drawn, looking concerned. His red hair was rumpled from sleep. "What is it, Harry? Did something happen? Is Ginny okay? Is Hermione okay?"  
  
Harry belatedly realised what this must look like and shook his head. "No, no, they're fine. Ron—you're going to be an uncle again."  
  
It took Ron a few moments to process this, before grinning widely and pulling his best friend in for a hug. "As mad as I am that you seem to have forgotten that not all of us keep new parent hours, that's brilliant, mate, really brilliant. You and Ginny aren't wasting any time, are you?"  
  
Harry laughed. "No rest for the wicked," he said, wagging his eyebrows suggestively.  
  
Ron let go of him and smacked him playfully in the arm. "That's my sister you're talking about, mate!"  
  
Harry grinned sheepishly.  
  
"Have you told Hermione yet?"  
  
Harry shook his head. "No, I'm just off to do it. She stayed at Grimmauld Place last night, figured I'd pop by before work."  
  
"She's more likely to be up at this hour than me," Ron grumbled. "We'll celebrate later, but right now I'm going back to bed."  
  
"Thanks Ron. And sorry for waking you—I really didn't realise just how early it was. This probably could have waited."  
  
"No, it definitely could have waited an hour or three, but I'm glad you told me. Now go tell Hermione. I don't want to be the only person roused out of bed this early."  
  
\-----------  
  
"So… now what?"  
  
Severus's question hung in the air between them, but there was no awkwardness or angst.  
  
They had slowly and carefully made their way toward each other the night before, mostly talking and kissing and caressing and just holding each other, eventually evolving into something closer.  
  
It had been a very long time since Hermione had been with a man, and she had forgotten how comforting and peaceful it could be to lose herself in another person's arms.  
  
He had been attentive and thoughtful but also very tentative, as if afraid he would break her. Very little was done without him gaining her express permission. Hermione could tell it had been awhile for him, and based on the hesitancy in his actions she would have sworn that he had less experience than might be typical for a man his age. It had not been perfect sex, nor the best of her life, but definitely enjoyable. Definitely room to grow together. Definitely something she would like to practise with him.  
  
Continuing the honest discussion that had begun the night before, Hermione thought for a moment before she replied, "I don't know." She looked at him thoughtfully. "I know it's something I wouldn't mind continuing with you, but if you're asking me to give this a label… I don't know if I can do that right now."  
  
While Severus's expression had not changed, she could swear she saw a flicker of relief in his eyes.  
  
In truth, she did not want to label this because she did not know what it was. It was more than just sex. She definitely had grown to admire and care for him, though she hadn't really properly admitted it to herself. But Hermione also knew herself too well to attempt to understand it. In the past, she had confused companionship and comfort with love, and did not want to do it again. What they had was nice and they had further complicated an already complicated situation. They would need to be careful.  
  
He, for one, was glad Hermione had not put a label on this. It was too tentative, too unsure. It was complicated and delicate and he was afraid of destroying it like he had destroyed so many other beautiful things that had come into his life. He had been nervous and inexperienced and she had been kind and nonjudgmental. She was already teaching him things. He was sure that he had enjoyed it, and that she had too, and that he wanted it to continue. Hermione said she wanted it to continue, which was an enormous relief.  
  
Severus did not want to think about how long it had been since he had last been with a woman, and had forgotten just how nice it could be to take another in his arms and just be with her.  
  
_Just to be, indeed._  
  
He had been so worried that he would not be able to meet her expectations, or to make a fool of himself by, well, "ending" things before they had a chance to properly begin. He did not want to think of how many years it had been since he had been intimate with a woman; she was definitely the first, the only, since the war ended. Having never been in much demand for physical pleasure, he had been afraid this would be no more than the equivalent of a teenage fumble. Her noises of appreciation and words of encouragement last night had calmed his fears, and this morning her face showed no trace of regret. That had not been the case with all of his bed partners. This was good. They could grow together in this. She could teach him what she liked, and he could teach her what he liked. He…well, he was a man. His needs were met very simply and easily, though he wouldn't mind experimenting and exploring with her.  
  
Severus nodded and tried to pick the right words to ask the question. "Are you currently… associating with anyone else?" He tried to sound nonchalant, indifferent even. There was no point in betraying that he had grown to care for her. Things could end right now and he could walk away without having made a complete fool of himself. He had no desire to share her with anyone else, and would walk away if she was not willing to do the same.  
  
He knew he had failed at making the question sound casual as soon as he saw her eyes widen. He cursed himself silently. To think that he had once been such a good spy.  
  
"No," Hermione said. "I'm not." And then after a pause, added, "And you?"  
  
Severus shook his head.  
  
"Well then," she said, toying with a lock of his hair, "no need to mess with the status quo, then, is there?"  
  
She wants to be exclusive. Severus responded with a slow, deep kiss, moving his body over hers. Yes, it was getting late, but he knew from experience they probably had about an hour or so before the children would…  
  
There came a knock on Hermione's bedroom door. Severus and Hermione sat up with a start, arms still around one another.  
  
"I thought you said…"  
  
"They never do."  
  
"How would they know to come here?"  
  
"I don't know. Given that I would put all of them in Slytherin House, they likely figured things out somehow. Just wait here," he said, transfiguring his shirt from the night before into a dressing gown, "and I'll see what the trouble is."  
  
Severus smoothed down his hair just a bit and opened the door, pulling the door open just as the person on the other side pushed it open.  
  
Potter. Harry bloody _fucking_ Potter.  
  
What the _hell_ was Potter doing here so early?  
  
"Severus?" Potter made no attempt to hide his shock. "What are you…" His voice trailed off as he looked over Severus's shoulder to the bed, clearly visible behind. "Hermione?" His emerald eyes widened as he put together the situation. "Wow, I… I'll just…" Without another word, he turned on his heel and bolted down the stairs.  
  
Hermione made a sound of frustration. "Harry… that bloody wanker," she hissed. She leapt out of bed and tied a dressing gown around herself.  
  
"What the bloody hell is Potter doing just entering your bedroom without warning?" Severus asked, trying not to sound accusatory.  
  
"No idea, but I'm off to find out. He came here looking for me and it might be important. But I'm sure it's nothing you need be worried about," she said, grabbing her wand from the side table. Severus noticed that she always kept it with her. She paused in the doorway and gave him a meaningful look. "Really." And left the room.  
  
Severus sat in bed, unsuccessfully trying to calm himself down using controlled breathing. He cursed himself for failing to restrict Potter specifically from the floo; his security charms applied to everyone in the house except for its rightful owner, Potter himself.  
  
He knew he was being ridiculous—Potter was one of her best friends and this had been his house, and for all he knew they walked in on each other in bed regularly, and he didn't even have a claim to Hermione until about thirty seconds before Potter barged in.  
  
Still… Severus didn't like it.  
  
Severus was torn between leaving for his own room and following her downstairs to get an explanation. On the one hand, if he had just been made a fool of by Harry Potter of all people, he wanted it over with as soon as possible. On the other, if he had not, he did not want to do anything to jeopardise this.  
  
Quite a friend who would enter her bedroom in the wee hours of the morning without his wife, said the malicious voice in his head. Wonder how often that's happened.  
  
Severus shook his head. It seemed a bit far-fetched, even for them.  
  
Better go downstairs to see what Potter wanted. Just in case it was about the house or the children.  
  
Just in case.  
  
\--------  
  
"Harry James Potter, what the ruddy hell was that all about?" Hermione hissed at Harry in a low voice as she caught up with him downstairs. "Is something wrong? Did something happen to Ron or Ginny?"  
  
"I'm so sorry Hermione, I had news and I was excited and I remembered you were staying here and… look, I'll never enter this house again without permission," Harry said, stiffening as he saw a very angry Severus come down the stairs after her.  
  
"Well?" he said, crossing his arms and staring down at him with his best withering glare.  
  
"It was… Ginny's pregnant and I wanted to tell Hermione. That's all."  
  
"My congratulations," he drawled murderously. "Now get out of this house and do not come back unless you have been expressly invited."  
  
"Wonderful news, Harry," Hermione said warmly, contrasting brilliantly with Severus's cold demeanor. "But was that really necessary?"  
  
"At the moment, I don't think so, no."  
  
Severus said nothing, merely glared at Potter in hopes of making him leave.  
  
"I'm, um, I'm happy for you. Both of you." He gave a sheepish grin. "I know this isn't how you wanted me to find out, I'm sure, but you both deserve to be happy."  
  
"Marvelous speech, Potter," Severus drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "So good of you to give us your blessing."  
  
"How long has this been going on?" Harry asked, gesturing between the two of them.  
  
Hermione blushed. "Um, last night."  
  
"Oh." Now it was Harry's turn to blush. "Well, I'll just, um, leave you to it then." Without another word, he ran to the fire and flooed home.  
  
Severus stormed over to the floo and conjured a brick wall over it, completely blocking it.  
  
"Is that really necessary?" Hermione sighed.  
  
"Until Potter learns some boundaries, including what does and does not make for a healthy friendship with a member of the opposite sex, yes."  
  
"And how are Luna and Neville supposed to get in later today?"  
  
Grumbling, Severus waved his wand and removed the wall. Without Hermione's knowledge, he silently cast a spell to ward out Potter specifically. _Let the little bastard try to floo in now_ , he thought to himself.  
  
"This is so unlike him," Hermione mused.  
  
"Barging in where he doesn't belong and causing trouble for others because he cannot see beyond his own immediate needs? I would call that _vintage_ Potter."  
  
"I know Harry, he's learned his lesson, he feels horrible, and will never do it again."  
  
Severus did not believe that for a second. "If you say so." He wasn't completely hopeless when it came to relationships.  
  
"Trust me, I know him better than anyone, probably even better than Ginny, and better than he knows himself."  
  
"Potter obeying rules? That I'll never live to see."  
  
"Oh, stop, that was a long time ago."  
  
Not long enough.  
  
Deciding that Severus would likely fixate on this unless she did something about it, Hermione wrapped her arms around his torso and began kissing him deeply like she had the night before after they had secreted away in her room. "What time do they usually get up?" Hermione asked between kisses.  
  
"Just under an hour," he replied, moving down to kiss the spot just under her ear that he had recently discovered set her on fire, Potter's visit completely forgottne.  
  
"Then we've no time to lose, do we?" Hermione said with a devious smile. Severus grasped her hand and quietly but quickly led her up the stairs and back to her bed.  
  
\--------  
  
Luna Lovegood flooed in a couple of hours later. Since her therapy had been so successful, and the children were opening up more and learning to better interact with each other and trust adults, she had started coming in two mornings per week. She didn't want to slow their progress. She found Hermione and Snape in the kitchen, sitting with the appropriate amount of distance between them necessary to maintain propriety.  
  
"Good morning Hermione, Severus," she said dreamily. "I see you finally realised your attraction to each other and did something about it. I'm happy for both of you."  
  
Severus nearly spat out the coffee he had begun to sip. Hermione's face went pink and she whispered furiously to Luna, "Have you been talking to Harry?"  
  
"Oh, goodness, no. It's written all over your faces plain as day. Why, did you talk about it with him?" She smiled when Hermione didn't react. "Well, be good to each other. I'm going to set up the room."  
  
After she left, Severus looked at Hermione and raised a single eyebrow. Nobody ever read anything in his face. He had perfected the expressionless look over a period of more than forty years. Hell, he was even Occluding last night right now—hidden it in the deepest recesses of his mind so that he wouldn't walk around with the satisfied smirk Hermione had teased him for wearing earlier. How the hell could Lovegood know?  
  
Hermione, seemingly hearing his train of thought, merely shrugged and said, "I told you, she's very insightful."  
  
\-------  
  
An hour after Hermione left for the Ministry, Longbottom flooed in, giving Severus a nervous grin. It was summer holidays now and he was coming in every day. His look was mischievous. It was almost as if he was trying to pluck up the courage to say something, which he finally did. Lovegood must have encouraged him to be more "friendly" with Severus.  
  
Not bloody likely.  
  
"Morning, Severus."  
  
"OUT!"  
  
Longbottom wisely scarpered off.  
  
\------  
  
An ear-piercing scream woke Hermione. Before she had even taken in her surroundings, she saw Severus silhouetted against the fire quickly wrapping his dressing gown around himself.  
  
"Go back to sleep," he whispered as he made his way for the door. "Night terrors. I think it's Mr. Dolohov." He swept from the room and she heard his swift footsteps move up the stairs.  
  
Grabbing her wand, she tiptoed up the stairs after him. The bedroom door was slightly ajar, though not open. She positioned herself so that she could see through the crack of the door. Severus was sitting next to little Sergei Dolohov, who was panting and covered in sweat and trying not to cry. He conjured a glass and filled it with an _Aguamenti_ and gave it to him. They sat there together, Severus sitting next to the boy but not touching him, not looking at him, not giving any indication that there was anything wrong. The longer they sat there, the more the boy relaxed.  
  
It was much like his interaction with Margaret the night they got together, only different. Clealry this boy needed something different than Margaret. While she had wrapped herself around Severus and clung to him with all her strength, Sergei seemed to want a bit of personal space. He drank the water and did not move near Severus, but clearly did relax, just being in proximity to him.  
  
Hermione had known, intellectually, that he understood each child's needs individually, but it never ceased to please her to see just how well he knew each child. Smiling, she crept back down to bed.  
  
\---------  
  
"I really am happy for you, you know," Potter said conversationally, as if they hadn't been sitting in silence moments before whilst Longbottom and Lovegood corralled the children into the kitchen for lunch.  
  
Severus merely scoffed at Potter and rolled his eyes. "And why, may I ask, is that?"  
  
"Because I want Hermione to be happy, and I want you to be happy. No one deserves it more than you do."  
  
Severus scoffed. "I was not born yesterday. If you think that I am stupid enough to believe that a _Potter_ ," he spat the word as if it tasted bad in his mouth, "could want me to feel happy, you're even more idiotic than I ever gave you credit for."  
  
Potter gave a sigh and took a seat across from Severus. "Severus, Hermione has a motto that she uses with regard to this project. She uses it whenever one of us becomes too overwhelmed. Has she ever shared it with you?"  
  
She hadn't.  
  
"It's a simple phrase with a lot of meaning behind it. Her motto is, 'Without regard for the sins of the father.'" He paused for a moment, and then said, "I truly hope you and Hermione make each other happy, Severus. I don't want to see either of you hurting anymore."  
  
He left to join the others in the kitchen without another word.  
  
\-----------  
  
"You don't wear black anymore," Hermione mused lazily. Severus spooned behind her, resting his chin in the crook of her neck.  
  
Their... arrangement existed only within the four corners of Hermione's bedroom.  
  
They never spoke this way to each other outside the bedroom. They were never physical or affectionate. Outside the bedroom, they were colleagues. They were cordial. They were professional. Even if they were alone.  
  
But inside the bedroom… that was a different story. It wasn't just the sex, which they were still figuring out together. It was the intimacy-the conversations, the company, the cuddling. Who would have known that Severus Snape was a closet cuddler?  
  
Severus chuckled at her question. "Don't tell me you're disappointed."  
  
"No, but it's different. I can't recall ever seeing you in any other colour." She turned slightly. "Any particular reason?"  
  
"The children found it intimidating, which I admit was the main purpose of wearing it whilst at Hogwarts but under the present circumstances I found it was not really appropriate."  
  
"Why did you want to be so intimidating with your appearance? Your personality was so powerful you could have worn pink and still had us shaking."  
  
"You forget that my first year of teaching was only three years after I graduated Hogwarts; half of my students were people who knew me as a peer and remembered how unpopular I was and what Potter and Black used to subject me to. They knew my nickname. I had to do something to command their attention and respect."  
  
"So you dressed like a stereotypical villain, refined your voice, and decided to command by fear if you couldn't have respect?  
  
"Precisely."  
  
"And in subsequent years?"  
  
"I had a reputation to maintain."  
  
"And now?"  
  
He sighed and took a deep inhale of her hair. It smelled like orange blossoms. "And now, to be perfectly honest, I find that people are less likely to recognise me if I wear anything other than black. Between that and the hair, I am practically anonymous. I find that I do not like being recognised."  
  
"Neither do I."  
  
"Is that why you cut your hair? It's much shorter than you used to wear it. And less bushy. More…wavy."  
  
"Not really," Hermione said. "And it didn't really make a difference, I still get recognised. I just sort of fancied a change. Do you like it?"  
  
"There's only one right answer to that question, isn't there?"  
  
"Should I take that as a no?"  
  
"Not at all. I find it very alluring. Mature. It helps me forget about the age difference between us."  
  
"Does it bother you—the age difference? It doesn't bother me."  
  
"No, but it feels like it should bother me."  
  
"Well, it shouldn't and I'm glad it doesn't." She shifted her body so that she was pressed more closely against him. "Severus?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Colours flatter you. Especially grey."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"Have you thought about trying yellow?"  
  
"Don't be absurd."  
  
"Scared you might like it?"  
  
He nipped her ear in response.  
  
\---------  
  
"So?" Ginny said expectantly. They had met at the Leaky Cauldron during Hermione's lunch break.  
  
"So?" Hermione asked.  
  
"So!"  
  
"What?"  
  
"You and Snape! How did it happen? When did it happen? Why did it happen?" She gave her friend a wink.  
  
"I'm not talking about it, he'll kill me." Ginny just smiled with a big grin on her face. "I mean it, Ginny!"  
  
"I can tell you're happy."  
  
Hermione smiled. "I am."  
  
"Good. That's all I need to know."  
  
"You're not going to lecture me on how weird it is?"  
  
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Please, Hermione. You're an adult, and my friend, and I want you to happy, and if that involves shagging Snape, well, carry on."  
  
"Thank you for your blessing. I trust Harry knows not to barge into my room uninvited anymore?"  
  
"Oh trust me, you've cured him of that habit."  
  
\---------  
  
Harry stopped in his tracks, staring at Snape.  
  
He sneered at his former student. "What, Potter?"  
  
"Is that… a _yellow_ jumper you're wearing?"  
  
"So what if it is? Is that a bloody crime?"  
  
"I just… it's different, that's all."  
  
Snape mumbled and charmed it dark green.  
  
"Better?"  
  
"Much."  
  
\--------  
  
Hermione woke with a start, as she often did at night when ugly memories of ugly events found their way into her dreams. It was happening less and less the further away she got from the war, but it still happened.  
  
She was covered in a cold sweat. She couldn't remember what she had been specifically dreaming about, but it was something bad. Her heart wasn't pounding the way it normally did, though, and it took her a second to realise why. Rather than feel exposed and alone in her bed, she felt warm arms around her, pulling her close, and the whisper of breath from the man lying next to her.  
  
"Only a dream," he murmured. "Only a dream."  
  
For once, she believed that it was, and allowed herself to fall back asleep. It was never so easy before. It almost felt too easy.  
  
Maybe life really was starting to get easy again. Or, rather, easier.  
  
\-------  
  
"Severus?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"What was it like, being in a coma for a year?"  
  
"Tedious."  
  
"I'm serious."  
  
"As am I. I could hear everything and everyone around me; I was fully aware the whole time. I just wasn't responsive."  
  
"Was it the venom—did it render you unconscious yet aware?"  
  
"No, it was the coma itself. By design."  
  
"By design?"  
  
"I induced it."  
  
"How?"  
  
"Old Occlumency trick. If the mind is being invaded by too many things, shut it down. Under the circumstances, it seemed the right thing to do."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"The pain, Hermione, was just… unbearable. I knew I could heal myself but that the pain of doing so would likely kill me. I knew that if I could render my body comatose, I would be able to ride it out. I could remain mentally lucid and track the progress by listening to others."  
  
"Wow…"  
  
"It's enlightening, really, to hear what people have to say about you when they think they cannot hear you."  
  
"Any surprises?"  
  
"Not really. I received many visitors who came to offer their apologies. Minerva, for one, but I never blamed her for doing what she did. She did exactly what she was meant to do, which was to oppose me at every step and believe that I was a loyal Death Eater. Longbottom was a surprise, he came to visit more than once, though he didn't speak much. Once Minerva brought in Albus's portrait, but I willed myself to sleep at that point because I care nothing for what the old man has to say to me."  
  
"I came to visit you, once."  
  
"I remember."  
  
"How could you, I never spoke. I couldn't speak without breaking down back then. The guilt I felt, and the gratitude…"  
  
"You held my hand," Severus said, taking hers in his and planting a kiss on it. "You held my hand, and I knew it was you."  
  
"Back then, when I was just the insufferable know-it-all who was joined at the hip with Harry Potter?"  
  
"Back then."  
  
"But… but you'd never touched me before that."  
  
"Yes I had."  
  
"When?"  
  
"When you were petrified. I was working on the cure and came to the hospital wing, and I saw you all lying there. I was… disturbed to see that my most promising student was rendered petrified by virtue of her birth. All that potential at risk of being lost forever, and you were so young, and so determined… you had that little mirror in your hand, a true know-it-all to the last…" He smiled at her. "It was only once, but I briefly grasped your hand, when nobody was looking, and I whispered the only thing I could think of to you. I cared not for reviving the others, but you… as annoying as you were, I wanted you back in my classroom giving me headaches and stomach ulcers. When you grasped my hand at St. Mungo's I recognised the touch. Your hand was not much smaller than it is now." He massaged her hand within both of his. "Just as delicate today as it was then."  
  
"That's sweet."  
  
"Sweet? It's downright paedophilic! You were twelve years old!"  
  
"Thirteen, actually. But you're wrong; it wasn't sexual or lecherous, it was compassion for a child who was in mortal danger, which you show to your charges here every hour of every day, and to your graduates as well. It was an entirely appropriate thing for you to do as a teacher. But a live-in teacher as a boarding school is more than just a teacher, isn't he? He becomes something more. You become a surrogate parent, and when yours are far away, even an acerbic bastard of a surrogate parent is better than nothing at all." She took his face in her palm and rubbed her thumb across his cheek. "You have a great capacity for compassion, Severus Snape. I wish you would let the world see it more often."  
  
"The world has rendered me a martyr, Hermione, they don't need more ammunition for their falsities."  
  
"It's the truth."  
  
"We'll have to agree to disagree on that."  
  
For a long time they merely held each other.  
  
"Severus?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"What did you say to me, when you held my hand?"  
  
"I took twenty points from Gryffindor for wandering the corridors alone."  
  
"Bastard."  
  
"Impertinent."  
  
\--------  
  
Luna frowned as she reviewed her records from the past few months. On the whole, all the children were improving. Certain trends had emerged. Generally, the ones who had siblings in the house were far more stable than the ones without. Those with siblings at all were more stable than those who were only children. Age did not seem to be a factor, gender did not seem to be a factor, parental status (dead, Kissed, incarcerated) did not seem to be a factor.  
  
Still, there were problems. Margaret Macnair still had regular panic attacks, although they were far less virulent than the one she had had that night a few weeks earlier. The Rosiers had withdrawn almost completely into themselves, and with Leopold due to start at Hogwarts in a few months, it was imperative that Ermengarde learn to feel secure around other people. The Carrow sibling-cousins barely spoke at all, and Luna was beginning to suspect that without more direct therapy, Antioch may eventually be unable to access his magic at all. Squib status would render him completely defenceless.  
  
There was really no way around it. Part-time therapy had done much to help them, but now it was time to increase the frequency. Luna resolved that she would ask Snape to bring her on full-time as a counselor and drop her from teaching.  
  
"I do not have the funds to bring you on as a full-time therapist, Miss Lovegood," Snape said when she approached him with her proposal. "Much as I would like to eliminate your fanciful lessons, it is simply not an option. And I do acknowledge that they need more intensive therapy."  
  
"I'm not asking for money; the Quibbler supports me just fine. More than fine."  
  
"If you do this full-time, when would you work on the Quibbler?"  
  
"It actually doesn't take up that much of my time; it's only a monthly periodical, anyway. Most of the articles are written by freelance writers so I only have to edit them together, which takes hardly any time at all." She looked at him thoughtfully. "That's kind of you to worry about."  
  
"Kindness has nothing to do with this. I simply want to ensure that you do not drop off after a month or two when you decide you can no longer afford to be noble." He crossed his arms and gave her the look he always gave students back at Hogwarts. It made her smile. That only made him scowl more.  
  
"You can count on me," Luna said. "Between the Quibbler and the war reparations for the house that was destroyed and my time at Malfoy Manor and the proceeds from the book of my father's essays, money is not an issue for me. I was also wondering if you might consent to transfiguring the attic?"  
  
"Into what?"  
  
"Well, as functional as the sitting room and library are, they're not really that private, and I want to retain their bedrooms as secure places, so I don't want to do it there. I thought we could transfigure at least part of the attic into a counseling room. A couch, a table, art supplies, parchment to write on, the things I've been using thus far, so that I can work with the children one-on-one or in small groups."  
  
He nodded thoughtfully. "I will consider it. I think I could do it."  
  
"Splendid," Luna said. "I have a few other suggestions, if I may?" He gave a slight nod. "Well, I think that as a group, their social skills leave much to be desired. With all of them bound for Hogwarts, they need to learn how to interact with others. I realise that much of the problem arises from the actions of other students, but perhaps if they learned how to act around strangers they might find more appropriate responses. When Neville and I took them to the zoo, they seemed frightened and quite overwhelmed by others at first, but overall by the end of the day they seemed far more relaxed. I think if we were to take them somewhere outside the house once per week, we could really make some progress.  
  
"I also," she continued, "would like to start introducing other children their age. I had thought of Teddy Lupin."  
  
"Remus Lupin's son? Out of the question. Andromeda will never consent to it."  
  
"Why shouldn't she? He was orphaned by the war, same as these children were."  
  
"And his father was killed by the father of one of the children in this house. Her husband and daughter were killed by the aunt of two others in this house. It will never happen."  
  
"He doesn't need to know that now. He's the same age as some of the younger children; it might be nice for them to have an ally when they arrive at Hogwarts. Maybe they will never be friends, but I can't imagine them being worse off for at least attempting it."  
  
"I shall… consider it, though as I said, the boy's grandmother will likely forbid it. You raise some interesting points, Miss Lovegood, a feat that, given your fanciful beliefs about the world at large, never ceases to amaze me. You have my leave to take them on an outing once per week to start. And to begin a full-time schedule."  
  
Luna smiled. "One more thing, Severus."  
  
Snape gave an exaggerated sigh. "You're trying my patience, Lovegood."  
  
"Yes, but who isn't? Except for probably Hermione. Though I bet she tries your patience too. And she probably does so in a way that you enjoy." Severus glared daggers at her. As was typical, she seemed completely unaffected by his look.  
  
"Anyway, you talk of the children being lost once they get to Hogwarts. There are none currently there, correct?" Snape shook his head. "And Leopold is the only one starting next term?" Snape gave a small nod. "Just remember, Severus, that you now have a member of Hogwarts faculty on your side. Neville…well, talk with Neville. He may be the most junior member on staff, and not someone you particularly like, but he's well-respected and might be able to do something. At the very least, he can try to keep an eye open. Don't be shy about asking him, and don't act like you're angry to do it, because he and I already spoke about it and he's already agreed to do it."  
  
Luna stood up to go. "Good day, Severus. I look forward to us working together on a daily basis now." By the look he gave her, Snape did not match her sentiment. Though Luna had long since stopped relying on his expressions to gauge his feelings on a subject.  
  
"And remember… you're not fighting this battle alone anymore."  
  
\----------  
  
Hermione shifted her weight from one leg to the other as she stood waiting outside the Leaky Cauldron. She did not like standing out in public for too long (too many opportunities to be recognised and, by extension, harassed) and a part of her was really not looking forward to this conversation. Nevertheless, it needed to happen, and needed to happen soon.  
  
She was going to tell Ron.  
  
What she was going to tell him was still up in the air. She didn't know what she and Severus had exactly. A relationship? An arrangement? An understanding?  
  
Feelings had never been discussed between them, in spite of all their late night conversations about nearly everything else. Neither one apparently wanted to discuss it beyond what it was. Intimacy apparently scared him as much as it scared her. There had been no protestations or declarations or anything of the sort from either one of them. Still, Hermione could not help but notice that she was staying over far more often than she had originally intended. She had not failed to notice that Severus always held her very possessively afterward, wordlessly asking her to stay and letting her go only after she assured him that she would come back.  
  
Perhaps they really were not so different.  
  
A familiar voice snapped her out of her thoughts.  
  
"You've been avoiding me."  
  
Ron stood before her looking tired yet happy yet upset at the same time. Despite her diagnosis to the contrary back in their teens, Ron did not have the emotional range of a teaspoon. Whether it had always been there or the war had caused it, he could be very complex.  
  
"I've been busy," Hermione replied, wrapping him in a hug and giving him a brief kiss on the cheek. "Come on, before the Prophet starts reporting that we're back together."  
  
She led him to the most hidden table in the corner. Just as she was about to open her mouth to ask after his mother he spoke. "I know about you and Snape, by the way, if this is what you wanted to talk about."  
  
Hermione froze. Before she could speak, he spoke again. "I'm fine with it. Harry says you're both very happy, and that makes me happy for you."  
  
She relaxed. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you myself. I don't know why I…"  
  
Ron chuckled and rattled off a list of reasons, counting off each one on his fingers. "Because it's me, and because it's Snape, and because it's you, and because Harry can't keep his bloody mouth shut." He smiled at her, a genuine smile. "Really, Hermione, I'm happy for you. Don't worry about me."  
  
"Thanks, Ron," she said with a smile. "I really appreciate that. I could kill Harry for telling you, but I appreciate that."  
  
"He seems happier, too," Ron said. "Not just because of James or the new baby but just happy in general. And he's always talking about Snape and the kids he's taking care of."  
  
"Harry really admires what Snape is doing. I know he wants to be more involved."  
  
"He's thinking of leaving the Auror Office, you know," Ron said.  
  
"Really? He hasn't mentioned anything to me about it. I thought he liked the work."  
  
Ron nodded. "He does, but he says that he's spent his entire life fighting dark wizards and it's time to do something else and that it's too much physical danger and now that he has a family he should know better and stop seeking out trouble."  
  
Hermione snorted. "Sounds like something your Mum would say."  
  
Now it was Ron's turn to snort. "Believe it or not, it was Snape who told him that. Who would have ever believed I would be sitting here at the Leaky with one best friend receiving life advice from Snape and the other shagging him?"  
  
Hermione laughed. "Strange the way that life turns out, isn't it? I'm not surprised they spoke. Harry really values Severus's opinion. Severus resists it, of course. But Harry often seeks him out, just for talk. And Severus gives in far more often than he will ever admit."  
  
"Why?"  
  
Hermione shrugged. "You know Harry. He's always sought out father figures and always will. He lost his own father and then all of the surrogate ones in rapid succession—Sirius, then Dumbledore, then Remus. Remus hit him the hardest, because he was the last of the Marauders and the last person in his life who truly knew James and Lily as people. I know he regrets focusing too much on James and not enough on Lily when he would talk to them. But you remember that. I think… I think now that Severus is in his life he sees him as another link to his family, the last person alive who knew James and Lily. Plus you know he still feels guilty as hell about everything that happened between them. So much bad blood, I think he wants it gone." Ron made a face. "Don't worry, I don't see him replacing you as Harry's best friend."  
  
"I haven't lost sleep over it, don't worry." Ron tilted his head and looked at his ex-girlfriend. "You really do seem happy. The way you talk about him… your lip does that little thing where it curls up the more you try not to smile."  
  
"It does not."  
  
"I know your face, Hermione, you won't hide. Don't hide this and don't hide from me. It's bad enough that we haven't had a MOD Squad meeting in some time."  
  
In the first couple of years after the war, the three of them had met up once a week for dinner. Calling themselves the MOD (Masters of Death) Squad, it was a way of keeping the friendship alive. Before spouses or careers or children, when all they craved was time with each other and respite from the world, it was easier to maintain. Ron was right; it had been a long time.  
  
"We'll have to get the band back together someday soon," Hermione agreed. She hesitated before speaking again. "And, you know, you are always welcome at Grimmauld Place."  
  
Ron shook his head. "I still can't, Hermione. I'm sorry."  
  
"I understand. But I wanted you to know the offer still stands and always will."  
  
"I do," Ron said with a smile. He checked his watch; it was not the one he had received on his seventeenth birthday but the one his brother Fred had received on his. The face was cracked from the rubble of the wall that had killed him. Ron would never, ever fix it. "I'd best get back to the shop. Summer holidays are always a very busy season for us."  
  
"I'm sure," Hermione said, getting up. They hadn't eaten anything, but that wasn't the reason they had come, so there was no point in pretending. She gave her friend a strong hug. "Owl me and we'll get together soon."  
  
"I will," Ron said. "You going back to work?"  
  
Hermione nodded. "Those audits don't write themselves." And with another embrace, they turned and went their separate ways.  
  
Ron Weasley waited until Hermione had Apparated away before he stopped walking. He had not lied that this was the busy season at WWW, or that he should get back to the shop. He also had not lied when he told Hermione that he knew about her and Snape.  
  
But he had lied when he had told her that he would not go to Grimmauld Place. Concentrating on the address, he Apparated to the courtyard outside. He had not been inside since Harry and Ginny had moved out. From the outside nothing changed, though he could feel stronger magic pulsating around the building to keep away intruders.  
  
He considered just walking in as he always had but then remembered that this was not his sister and brother-in-law's home anymore. Probably couldn't just walk in anymore, even if he wanted to. Knowing that formality was always the best way to approach Snape, he decided to knock gingerly on the door and hope for the best.  
  
It was a long time before Snape opened the door, which he did with great agitation and exasperation.  
  
"Weasley," he said flatly.  
  
"Snape."  
  
"I suppose there is a reason for your unannounced visit?"  
  
"There is, and a good one," Ron said. He gestured toward the door. "May I?"  
  
The mere fact that Snape stepped aside to grant him entry, albeit with a scowl on his face, was a good sign that he might be amenable to a little chat.  
  
"I'm here about you and Hermione."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not trying to sell Severus short in bed, I just don't see him as someone who would be terribly sexually experienced and think his lack of self-confidence would make him a tentative lover, at least at first. I also don't see Hermione as being terribly adventurous without prompting; she strikes me as someone who would need a lot of reassurance. Besides, the first time with a new partner is a bit trial-and-error even under the best circumstances. They're human. SexGod!Severus just wasn't realistic to me. At least not in this story.
> 
> I don't know if we ever heard who killed Ted Tonks, but it seemed fitting that it would be Bellatrix.
> 
> The Masters of Death (MOD) Squad is taken from the movie "Thank You For Smoking." If you haven't seen it, you should.
> 
> Coming Up: Ron and Severus have a chat, Hermione makes a decision, and Severus has The Talk with one of his charges.


	11. Liberation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was reckless, it was stupid, it was irresponsible. But oh was it liberating.

Severus had supposed it was far too much to ask that he and Hermione could continue to… enjoy each other without some half-baked attempt by Ronald Weasley to defend what he almost certainly considered to be his territory. He knew the boy had had designs on Hermione for nearly their entire time at Hogwarts, though he was utterly incompetent and bumbling at it and, in the end, had finally lost her.  
  
 _Sounds familiar_ , the voice in the back of his mind told him. Severus tried to ignore it but it continued.  _He's probably here to tell you to keep your greasy, murdering, Death Eater hands off his ex-girlfriend._  
  
 _How terribly chivalrous of him_ , Severus thought wryly. It reminded him of the old song the Sorting Hat used to sing:  _Their daring, nerve, and chivalry set Gryffindors apart._  Why did people persist in considering those attributes as assets rather than liabilities?  
  
In any case, he knew she and Weasley had been involved both during and after the war. It had been front-page  _Prophet_  news when they broke up shortly after he awoke from his coma, and nobody ever did learn the reason why. Hermione had never spoken of it, and Severus had never asked. He frankly hadn't cared; he never understood their attraction to each other in the first place. Still, Severus understood the desperation and single-minded focus of a man who has lost a woman he loved and only wants to win her back. He had played that game himself for far too many years of his life.  
  
Still, he had no desire to battle Weasley or even spend much time regarding him. Same dull blue eyes, same ridiculous freckling on his skin, same vacant expression. Weasley had not changed a bit. What Hermione had ever seen in him was beyond Severus, and he stopped that train of thought before he could begin to wonder what qualities or, Merlin forbid, skills the boy might have that would impress her. He preferred to believe their relationship had been an accident of time and place and circumstance and nothing more. Weasley was unworthy of her, plain and simple. And there was no way in hell he was going to discuss their… arrangement with him. Even if Weasley tried to torture it out of him. Which Severus knew even Weasley was not stupid enough to try.  
  
The two men stared at each other in silence for a very long time, each one silently daring the other to speak first. It was a tactic Severus had used for many years as a teacher, cajoling an unaware student to speak first and instigate his wrath. He had used it on Weasley before to great effect. When Weasley did not take the bait, Severus crossed his arms and quirked an eyebrow.  
  
"I don't have all day, Weasley," Severus finally said, breaking the silence.  
  
"I won't be long."  
  
"Well?"  
  
Weasley looked around. "I'm not sure your foyer is the best place to have a chat. Is there somewhere a bit more private we could go?"  
  
Severus gave a theatrical sigh and beckoned Weasley to follow him to the kitchen of Grimmauld Place. When they reached their destination, he once again crossed his arms and quirked an eyebrow in Weasley's direction, daring him to challenge Severus about Hermione.  
  
Severus was a man who prided himself on rarely being surprised by anything, but Weasley's words managed to completely disarm him.  
  
"I'm not here to tell you to stay away from Hermione, or to rail against you for being with her, or to throw all of your past in your face. Hermione is one of my best friends and someone I still love very much. You've made her happy. That's what I'm here to talk about."  
  
Severus said nothing, which Weasley correctly interpreted as an invitation to continue.  
  
"Ever since the war she's been very fragile, emotionally. She hasn't really got involved with anyone, for fear of getting her heart broken, and she hasn't taken on any ambitious challenges, for fear of failure. Helping you is the first major project she has really taken on. Yes, there was that thing with the House Elves, but she didn't have to work that hard because frankly she was Hermione Granger and the Ministry was not going to be seen vetoing a bill written by her. She's… affected, Snape. She acts tough and determined but she is a very fragile person.  
  
"I don't know how serious you are about her, and she hasn't said, but I know her and I know that she's probably serious about you. Hermione doesn't do casual relationships and never does anything only halfway. Not even now, after everything.  
  
"I still do love her. I will not get between the two of you, but I care very much about her well-being. I know I can never be with her again, but I do love her and I want her to be happy.  
  
"If you hurt her..." Weasley took a step closer and put a hand on Severus's arm none too gently. "If you hurt her, you answer to me."  
  
Releasing Severus's arm, he gave a nod and walked out of the kitchen. Severus heard his footsteps as he crossed the sitting room and showed himself out.  
  
Severus leaned against the wall and exhaled. No one was around, so he could let his guard down. He liked Hermione very much, found her company more than tolerable, and found himself growing increasingly attached to her. He was definitely possessive of her, as he was with all things that belonged to him.  
  
 _Belonged to him… did_  she belong to him? Weasley seemed to think so. Severus wondered briefly if he was brave enough to admit to himself that he wanted her to belong to him.  
  
 _It's only a matter of time until she leaves you too_ , he heard the voice say.  _Are you really putting so much stock into what Ronald fucking Weasley has to say on the subject?_  
  
Under ordinary circumstances, Severus would say no, that the opinions and conclusions of Weasley, any Weasley, were beneath his notice. But he had to admire the boy for coming to him, for telling him about Hermione's emotional state (she had been unreadable in this regard), and warning him to tread carefully with her. He was not afraid of Weasley's threat (Ronald Weasley threaten him—hah!) but like all conversations, the real meaning often lay beneath the surface of the words.  
  
Hermione had developed some feelings for him, and if he played his cards right, they might develop into something more.  
  
 _And Weasley still loves her_ , said the voice in the back of his head, the one that always filled him with doubt and dread.  _If you screw this up, he will be waiting._  
  
\---------  
  
Leopold Rosier stared at the small parchment in his hands. He had read the letter more times than he could count, but had not yet taken his eyes off the page.  
  
His Hogwarts letter.  
  
While such an occasion would bring joy and excitement to the hearts of any eleven-year-old, it filled Leopold's heart with dread. He would be away from his sister Ermengarde. He knew, knew, that his sister Brigita was not actually at Hogwarts anymore. He knew this because when she was first there, she owled almost every day. After a few months into her second year, they stopped and they had not heard anything from their eldest sister in nearly a year.  
  
Leopold was certain that she was still alive. If he got to Hogwarts, he might be able to find out where she was. He was certain Mr. Snape knew, but he would not say where she was or what had happened to her. In all likelihood, something bad had happened.  
  
Yes, he would wait. Leopold was very good at waiting for good things to happen, and now he would only have to wait a few weeks more.  
  
\-----------  
  
Hermione sat at her desk in the middle of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement Audit Office checking her references against her report. Every sentence had to be supported by her references, the notes and interviews and documents she had collected during her audit. Even small, obvious things like the orphanage's location had to be referenced and cross-checked. It was a tedious process, to say the least.  
  
She let her thoughts drift to something Severus had said to her the night their… time together began.  
  
 _You were not born to be a bureaucrat, Hermione. You spending your career there is a waste of your talent and your intelligence._  
  
He had been correct that this wasn't exactly the most stimulating work. But it was safe work. It was for the Ministry. She had had such high hopes of changing the organization from the inside. Instead here she was, cross-referencing sources in an audit report that would be filed away as soon as she was finished and never read. The recommendations would never be implemented.  
  
What was the bloody point?  
  
She didn't want to do this anymore. The problem was, she wasn't sure what she wanted to do instead. And until she did, she should continue working here, writing her reports and cross-referencing them and turning them in and filing them away. Only until she could think of something better.  
  
Hermione looked around the room and recalled that, years earlier, Harry had seen witches and wizards preparing anti-Muggle-born pamphlets en masse in this very room. Pamphlets that had attempted to brainwash Wizarding Britain into supporting the eradication of people like her. She considered how, in the courtrooms down below, she had witnessed Muggle-borns interrogated and then sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss for the crime of having no magical parents. She recalled the posters. Snatchers. "Undesirable Number One." Umbridge. The Department of Mysteries. Fudge. Scrimgeour.  _I must not tell lies._  Arthur Weasley never getting promoted until Fudge was ousted and most of his children had grown. Yaxley. Thicknesse. The statue that had once graced the entry to the Ministry of Magic—wizards crushing the Muggle population.  
  
After the war there was still corruption, still pro-pureblood laws on the books, still endless effing bureaucracy. Death Eater sympathisers still held too much influence. War orphans were abandoned to rot in the bowels of a decrepit building.  
  
Why was she still here?  
  
She stood up, suddenly. She looked around her at the wizards and witches who worked in the Audit Office, writing endless reports that would never be read. Was this where she really, truly, wanted to be?  
  
No. She didn't know where she'd rather be instead, but for now, anywhere but here would suffice.  
  
Calmly she removed her Ministry robes and set them over the back of her chair, leaving her in nothing but the Muggle skirt suit she wore underneath. She picked up her wand, put a satisfied look on her face, and walked out the door.  
  
It was reckless, it was stupid, it was irresponsible. But oh was it liberating.  
  
\----------  
  
"So you just… walked out?"  
  
"I walked out!" Hermione spoke with a euphoria that Severus had never seen before. "I can't believe it, I just… I walked out. I set down my quill, picked up my wand, said nothing to anybody, and just… left. And I'm not going back!"  
  
Severus nodded slowly. They were seated by the fire in her bedroom in opposite armchairs long after the children had gone to bed.  
  
It was all very unlike her; the Hermione he knew was a planner, methodical, she never did anything without considering all possible repercussions and consequences.  
  
He knew enough from his discussion with Lovegood and his own research into psychology that such extraordinary actions often resulted from an extreme emotional disturbance. Was she disturbed, emotionally?  
  
 _Wouldn't anyone be, sleeping with you_ , said the voice in the back of his mind.  
  
 _I'm not making her_ , he thought to himself. She invited him to her bed voluntarily and freely. And, he noted with an internal smirk, rather frequently. Not that he was complaining.  
  
Still, Severus couldn't quite shake the feeling that there was something more behind this. He was not practised at speaking about emotions, but, well, he cared about her. But he knew he had to be careful. Weasley had said she was emotionally fragile after the war. Plus, he was a Slytherin. Everything he did was calculated and carefully done.  
  
"Did anything in particular inspire you to do this?" he asked slowly, keeping his voice low and even.  
  
Hermione shook her head. She was still euphoric and exuding energy, a sure sign to Severus that something was going on. "No, not really. I was just sitting there, cross-checking meaningless references for a meaningless report and just wondered, why am I doing this? It's like you said, it's a waste. I could really do some important things with my life, and I wasn't doing them."  
  
So, what he had told her had in part inspired this. This could be very good or very bad.  
  
"So you just walked out and… then what did you do?"  
  
"I just walked around London. Muggle London. I walked along the Thames, then crossed it at the Millennium Bridge and walked it again on the other side. I was enjoying the fact that, at that moment, I had absolutely nothing to do. It was nice."  
  
Severus nodded. "It sounds very liberating."  
  
"That's exactly it! That's the word that ran through my head over and over and over. Liberating. I have no job, no plan, no idea what I'm going to do next…" Her face began to fall a bit at the sound of this, as if saying it out loud made her realise the implications of what she had done. When she spoke again, it was slowly and with wide eyes, her face falling further with every word. "I have no job… I have no plan… I have no idea what I'm going to do next… I just walked out of there without notice… oh God."  
  
Her face crumpled and she buried her head in her hands. Her shoulders began to shake and her breathing was slow and labored, the kind of breathing one does when trying to fight back tears.  
  
 _Crap_. Severus was faced with the most frightening of all the terrors in this world: a woman crying. His first instinct was to ask her why she was crying, but immediately threw that idea out as positively suicidal.  _Think, Severus, think!_  
  
Inspiration flashed and in an instant Severus was kneeling before her, gently taking her forearms in his hands and pulling them down to reveal her face. It was flushed and red, her eyes were blotchy, and her nose was running.  
  
Severus still thought she was exquisitely beautiful.  
  
"I've—I've never, ever, ever been so irresponsible," she panted. "Never."  
  
Severus wrapped his arms around her now and rocked her gently, planting a kiss on the top of her head.  
  
"I—now what do I do? I can't very well get a reference, and who would hire someone who just walked out on her job one day because she felt like it? I've ruined everything! I've ruined my life!"  
  
 _Oh God, don't let her think that I talked her into ruining her life. Alright, old man, breathe, relax, tell her how stupid she's being about the whole thing._  
  
"Idiot girl," he whispered gently into her ear.  
  
 _Nicely_ , he hissed at himself.  
  
"You're Hermione Granger, war hero and celebrated member of Wizarding society. Any competent employer would fall over itself for the chance to hire you."  
  
Hermione shook her head. "No, not after this is splashed all over the  _Prophet_ , which you know it will be, because it seems my every move is plastered on it for everyone to see."  
  
Severus tightened his hold on her as he rocked her. They'd made love dozens of times now, yet this, holding her crying form before the fire, was the most intimate he had felt with her. Comforting a crying child was very different from comforting a crying lover.  
  
"I _am_ an idiot," she wailed. "I don't know what I'm doing and I don't have the slightest idea of what happens next."  
  
Severus kissed her head again, smoothing his hand through her hair. What would you say to a Slytherin in this situation? I'd use logic, lay out all the facts. Will that work with a Gryffindor? No choice but to find out.  
  
"I know it can be a bit daunting to not have a plan. Especially for you." She huffed a breath, which he took to be a small laugh. "But the beauty of this situation is that you don't have to decide anything tonight, or tomorrow, or the next day. You don't really need the money, do you?"  
  
She slowly shook her head.  
  
Logic seemed to work, so he decided to go for broke.  
  
"And you do have something going for you—what about this project here? Helping fifteen scared children learn what it is to be human, something that no one else in this world has been willing to do."  
  
"Except you," she squeaked.  
  
"Yes, except me, which makes you so extraordinary," he punctuated this with a kiss, "that I want to be first to claim you for my project. Spend your days here. Help teach the children and prepare them for the world, for Hogwarts. Merlin knows that I need more hands here, and to be perfectly honest, Hermione," he drew back to take her face in his hands and meet her eyes. "You are the best teacher I could have wanted for them."  
  
She laughed and cried at the same time and fell into Severus's arms, kneeling with him on the floor.  
  
"Stay here and help them," he whispered into her ear. "Stay here with me."  
  
He hoped that she couldn't feel how much faster his heart was pounding as he awaited her answer. She nodded, not looking up at him. He was grateful she didn't.  
  
But she said yes, she agreed to stay with him. He had broken a rule, he had asked for what he wanted directly, and she had said yes.  
  
Now  _that_  was liberating.  
  
The next morning, he couldn't tell whether he'd fallen asleep due to exhaustion or fainted with relief.  
  
\------------  
  
Hermione had panicked when the realization of just what she had done the day before, picking up and leaving her job without a word. Severus's calming words had been just what she needed. She had spent so much time after the war inside her own head, repressing feelings so that she wouldn't have to feel them, wouldn't have to feel any pain. She had felt much pain in her young life. When the realisation hit her last night, she had all but collapsed under it. The shame and surprise at her own actions overwhelmed her, and for the first time since the war, she found herself without a plan. She felt exposed. She did not feel safe. And feeling safe had been her first and foremost objective ever since the war.  
  
But then he had been there, had wrapped her in his arms without judgment, and told her that she was going to be okay. He had encouraged her to come join him at Grimmauld Place full time, to help him help them, at least for awhile. She liked the idea. This had been her brainchild, in a way, and she wanted to see it through. She had felt guilty that, despite her role in creating this arrangement, she had only been present in the evenings to read the children a chapter of a story. Now she could help them full time, get to know them individually.  
  
And he had asked her to stay. For his sake. She was sure he hadn't meant for it to slip out, so she did not acknowledge it. He likely was just trying to stop her breakdown, her crying. She did not think Severus enjoyed holding crying women. She made it a point to never cry at all if she could help it, and never in front of others if she couldn't help it. There had been only one woman in Severus Snape's heart for over thirty years, and judging by the Patronuses he had left in the corridors to watch over the children as they slept, she was still the one in his heart. There was no sense in getting emotionally entangled with someone who could not reciprocate.  
  
Mutual passion, a desire to help a needy population, and a sympathetic ear. That was safe. That would be enough.  
  
\-------------  
  
Hermione threw herself into her work. She discovered that the children followed a regular daily schedule; Severus explained that schedules gave children a feeling of stability, particularly those who had lost their parents. Kreacher served breakfast on the long kitchen table at nine; in the morning, the children eight and older had counseling with Luna whilst the younger ones had lessons with either Neville or Severus (soon to be either Neville or Hermione). In the afternoon, they switched; the older children had lessons and the younger ones had counseling. Dinner was at six, followed by reading with Hermione at the usual time of half seven. By half eight the children were to go upstairs for bed.  
  
Hermione was struck by just how self-sufficient they all were. For children too young for even Hogwarts, they were very independent. They managed to wake up, shower, dress, and put themselves to bed without any additional help or monitoring from any of the adults. Severus explained to her that this was done for two reasons: one, he had been in no position to monitor or assist in such activity back when he was doing it all on his own; and two, his job was to teach them to be self-sufficient. It would make for an easier transition for them once they arrived at Hogwarts.  
  
Hogwarts. Only one student would be going this year: Leopold Rosier. He was a quiet boy who stuck by his sister's side constantly. The hippogriff in the room, of course, was the fact that his older sister was a prostitute in Knockturn Alley, something that Severus had absolutely forbid Hermione from mentioning to Leopold and Ermengarde.  
  
"They will learn the truth eventually, Severus," Hermione had protested. "Wouldn't it be best to learn it from someone they know and trust?"  
  
Severus had shaken his head, his eyes burning and his voice too calm. "If they learn what typically happens to people who leave my care, they will be broken before they even have a chance to begin. I will not have them giving up before they leave. They deserve that innocence."  
  
"But that's just the thing, Severus, none of them are innocent." He did not deign to respond to her comment.  
  
"Would it really be so impossible for you to bring them back here?" Hermione had asked softly.  
  
Severus turned from her and slammed his fist against the wall, a rare outburst of physical aggression from him. "Yes," he said in a tone that conveyed much more than that single word. It conveyed a warning: do not ask me again.  
  
So Hermione had not. She had turned on her heel and walked away without another word.  
  
\-------------  
  
He hated losing his temper, really losing his temper, in front of anyone. As a professor, he had actually never really lost his temper with a student. The insults and sneers and other, well, torments had become so ingrained in him that they had merely become a reaction to life's little annoyances.  
  
 _And they effectively kept people at arm's length, always good when one is first and foremost a spy. And when you know that it's only a matter of time before they leave you—before she leaves you_ , said the voice.  
  
Still, he was disappointed in himself for losing it like that in front of Hermione. It was more than he had ever shown even when she was a student, even when Potter was being his most aggravating and Longbottom his most idiotic on an already trying day. He had expected her to react, to tell him to sod off, to tell him that nobody speaks to her like that.  
  
 _To leave_ , said the voice.  
  
It would probably be mad for a man to tell his own brain to shut up, wouldn't it?  
  
But Hermione hadn't left. She hadn't yelled at him. She hadn't even replied to him. She just looked at him, her eyes full of both understanding and disappointment, and left him alone without another word. That he had not been expecting, and it was exponentially worse. Disappointment was always worse than anger, no matter the source.  
  
Still, he couldn't dwell on it now. Start of term at Hogwarts was fast approaching, and he had to have a talk with Leopold.  
  
He was a smart boy, kept to himself, took care of his younger sister. Severus dared to hope that he might be capable enough to fly under the radar of others and last longer at Hogwarts than many of his recent predecessors. If he could at least make it through his OWLs, he would have a better chance for a future than any of them.  
  
Severus had also decided to take advantage of his new legal status with regard to this boy and propose something that he had not yet tried with any of his prior charges, one that he could now legally do and might just be able to buy the boy some peace. It was something Hermione and Potter had suggested months earlier when they first began this endeavour: a legal name change.  
  
Severus agreed that it was probably the boy's best hope, and if it worked for him, he would insist on all the others doing it. But he would never force him or anyone else to do it. Family names were of great importance in the Wizarding world, and blood lines were still considered and emphasised, which Severus thought was ridiculous. ( _Says the so-called Half Blood Prince_ , snickered the voice.) To ask a wizard at any age to give up a family name was to ask him to give up something sacred, even if it was tainted by war and terrorism. It had to be the boy's choice. He owed him that much.  
  
They found themselves sitting across from each other at the kitchen table. Severus considered the boy. He was thin, much too thin, despite his improved living conditions, with deep-set grey eyes and sandy blonde hair. Severus thought that he looked a bit like Remus Lupin during their first year of Hogwarts, when his young body was being rent apart by violent transformations and he was already being shunned by polite Wizarding society. It was a shame to see it again. Same hollow eyes, same careworn face of a life that had seen too much in too few years. The narrow shoulders that carried burdens that would be heavy for a grown man. And now he was about to (literally) enter the lion's den.  
  
Severus began the speech that he gave every charge prior to leaving to Hogwarts. It changed very little from year to year.  
  
"I know that I do not need to sugar coat things for you, Leopold, so I will not. Your name—your father's name—is known already to most of the students in that place. Some of them lost relatives to his hand. I tell you this not to make you feel bad, for I know that you know it already. I tell you this because I want you to be prepared.  
  
"Hogwarts is not the safe haven it once was for all students. The war is fresh in everyone's memory, and do not forget that the accounts of the war were written by the Order of the Phoenix. However you remember your father, know that every other person in that school knows him only as a Death Eater who murdered innocents and followed the Dark Lord. He is one-dimensionally evil to them and, by extension, so are you.  
  
"Students leaving my care tend to be descended from Slytherins and sorted into Slytherin themselves. This is both a blessing and a curse. It is a blessing in that the rest of the school will treat you the way they treat every other Slytherin, and this makes the House very insular and protective of their own. However, Slytherins are angry that the name of the House will be forever associated with the Dark Lord, and when the child of a Death Eater begins in Slytherin, it spurs them into action. They never miss an opportunity to show that they themselves are not Death Eaters, and they do this by publicly abusing and harassing and humiliating the children of Death Eaters.  
  
"You, Leopold, are a marked man.  
  
"Headmistress McGonagall is nominally sympathetic but has a tendency to look the other way in situations involving students like yourself. Hogwarts protocol decrees that you bring all complaints of this sort to your Head of House, but I am warning you right now that Horace Slughorn is only interested in helping you to the extent that he believes you will one day be able to help him. Since he too will see you as your father, he will not attempt to help you. He has not done so for any student who has left my care, your sister Brigita included, and I do not believe that will change with you. Other students, other Slytherins, will give you every inducement, usually negative, to prevent you from even seeking help. By the time the Headmistress learns of what is happening, the student is usually gone or has retaliated and is being expelled.  
  
"I paint a bleak picture for you, Leopold. I do not wish to give you false hope. You are resilient and I believe that you can survive this. Everyone who leaves my care knows how to survive. They do not last because they choose to give up and they choose to let the assumptions of others define them. Rather than accept that, Leopold, I urge you to overcome it.  
  
"Do not rise to their taunts. If they make mention of your family, do your best to ignore them. If they strike you, do not strike back. Keep to yourself and choose your allies wisely. Be aware that sometimes others will attempt to befriend you in order to lull you into a false sense of security. Be wary, but not paranoid. Keep your ears open. Say little. Keep your head down. Do well in your subjects; teachers are more willing to help a student with good marks than one with bad marks, regardless of your family name. You have extra prejudice that you must overcome, so you must work extra hard to make them forget it.  
  
"Family name is another subject I wish to discuss. You are fortunate in that the private lives of most of the Death Eaters, your parents included, was never made public. There was little interest at the time and there is next to no interest now. People learn when they hear the name and immediately associate it. Most of your relatives have changed their names. I offer you that opportunity. I cannot promise that it will spare you, but it is something that I wish you to consider."  
  
He ended his lecture. The boy did not look afraid of what Severus had just told him. On the contrary, he looked…determined. Leopold Rosier was a Slytherin if Severus had ever seen one; one did not teach at Hogwarts for nearly two decades without learning how to accurately predict what house a person was in or would be sorted into. Slytherins were not cowards. The word was not in their vocabulary.  
  
Woe betide anyone stupid enough to call Severus Snape the C-word. He had a feeling Leopold Rosier was much the same.  
  
Finally the boy spoke. "If I do change my surname, sir, would Ermengarde's change too?"'  
  
"Not unless she makes the same decision. When her time comes, I will offer her the same choice."  
  
Leopold nodded. "You think people will be less likely to hate me if I change my surname?"  
  
Severus chose his words carefully. "I believe that they are less likely to know your true parentage without hearing the name, and therefore you are less likely to be a target. But this I cannot guarantee. There are still ways that others could find out."  
  
The boy sat there thoughtfully for a long time. Severus was about to tell him that he would give him a few days to consider when the boy said, "What would my new name be?"  
  
Severus had given this a lot of thought. If the choice to change the name was to be theirs, so was the new name. "I leave that up to you, Leopold."  
  
"Did you know my mother, sir?"  
  
Severus nodded, slowly. "Yes. Not well, but I did know her."  
  
"What was her name? Before she married my father."  
  
"Vivienne," he said softly. "Vivienne Clairemont."  
  
"Does that name have the same problems? Clairemont?"  
  
Severus shook his head. "No. I believe it is actually a Muggle surname. Your mother was a half blood. She kept it hidden." She hadn't been a Death Eater either, not that it had mattered to the Ministry. It was apparently a crime to be married to one.  
  
"Then that's who I want to be," Leopold said. "Leopold Clairemont."  
  
"You are certain? A surname is a valuable thing, it is not to be disposed of lightly."  
  
"For me, sir, it is a chain around my neck that I can't remove fast enough."  
  
\---------  
  
He knew he should apologise to her. After his little outburst in the sitting room, she had kept her distance.  _No doubt she thinks you're about to smack her next_ , said the voice.  
  
 _And_ , it added,  _weren't you just a little bit tempted to smack her, just to shut the chit up?_  
  
Severus was livid at the thought. "Never," he said out loud. He had never laid a hand on a woman in his life, ever, and never would in the face of any provocation, because he was  _not_ his fucking father.  
  
He sat down on a settee in the sitting room and ran his fingers through his hair before clutching it at the roots and resting his elbows on his knees. Bugger it all. She had looked so disappointed in him. In the face of all the insults he had thrown her way over the years, all the times he had yelled at her, all the times he had attempted to hurt her just for the hell of it, this had disappointed her.  
  
He found that he did not like the idea of her being disappointed in him. He had never cared about that before, with anyone, not since Lily. How very odd.  
  
He hadn't punched the wall because he was angry with her. He had done so because he was angry with himself and felt so fucking helpless about the situation sometimes that he couldn't take it.  
  
He wondered if she knew that. He wondered if she thought he was angry with her.  
  
An exhausted mind and a lack of relevant experience in the matter told him to wait it out until morning and figure out something then. She still had her flat in Kent; he supposed she had gone there for the night, since she always mentioned to him when she planned to stay in her room here. That would make Severus the only adult in the house, and he didn't fancy doing this via floo or Patronus, so it would have to wait until the morning anyway. By then, he knew, it would likely be too late. If his past experiences were anything to go by, it already was too late. She had likely already written him off as a bad job.  
  
As he trudged up the stairs, with a mind to crack open the bottle he had hidden in his side table to put him out of his misery for the night, he wondered what this was between them. Were they lovers? Shag buddies? Was this a relationship? Severus had never had an adult relationship with anyone so he supposed he wouldn't know one if it bit him in the arse. What did she think they were? That was probably the more relevant concern. He was willing to take whatever she would give him, but it was hard to know what that was. She professed that she was committed to this project they had together, but now that they had this between them…who's to say that if he really fucked this up she would want to continue? The children had begun to grow attached to her; he did not want her to leave them.  
  
 _And maybe_ , said the hopeful part of his mind that rarely spoke up, _maybe you really don't want her to leave you, either_.  
  
What had he got himself into this time?  
  
As he reached the first floor landing, he cast his Patronuses and turned to enter his own room but stopped himself when he saw that her door was ajar and the light was on. She never left her light on unless she was here, and as far as the door… was this an invitation?  
  
The part of himself that was all Slytherin said he should go to his room and wait until morning, make her sweat it out a little and beg for an apology. It would take some of the heat off of him. The part of him that seemed to have a soft spot for Muggle-born Gryffindors told him to swallow his pride and go in there.  
  
There really was no question which side would win out at this stage of his life. He stepped toward her door, knocked gingerly and entered before she could respond.  
  
She was lying in her bed with her back facing the door. He couldn't tell if she was asleep or awake, but judging from the rigidity of her posture and her breathing, she was awake. She hadn't greeted him, but she also hadn't thrown him out. For Severus Snape, this was a bloody welcome mat from a woman.  
  
He shut the door softly behind him and walked quietly across the floor to the bed, just in case she was asleep (no need to add to the list of things he had to apologise for) and toed off his shoes and removed his belt. Climbing in beside her, he spooned up against her and cautiously draped an arm over her waist. Pressing a small kiss to her temple (he only did this in here, mind, never anywhere else) he whispered two words in her ear. Two words he never said to anyone, ever. Two words that usually did nothing to assuage a situation of his own making.  
  
"I'm sorry."  
  
Hermione's eyes were closed and she did not respond, but he noticed that her hand found its way to his and covered it ever so gently.  
  
After a long pause, she whispered so low that he could barely hear her, "I'm sorry too." The grip on his hand tightened.  
  
Deciding that she was no longer cross with him, he pulled her a little closer to him and closed his eyes, the significance of the moment enveloping him.  
  
For the first time in his life, Severus Snape had been forgiven for losing his temper.  
  
 _"Nox."_


	12. Resignation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm disappointed, Severus. You have to reach back nearly thirteen years to come up with a relevant insult."

Severus desperately needed to find a Healer. It had been on his list of priorities since relocating everyone to Grimmauld Place. The abundance of food and psychological services had significantly improved the health of the children, but he knew they needed to be seen by someone on a semi-regular basis, just to check their general health. They had been so poorly neglected when he happened upon them, and the five years he worked with them in the orphanage were not enough to undo the significant damage that they had experienced.  
  
He resolved that, now that he had a few things under control, he would find a healer and bring him or her here to see them. Even if he had to kidnap and Obliviate to do it. Not that he actually would, mind. Hermione had vetoed that idea.  
  
He also needed to speak with Longbottom about Leopold. Lovegood had encouraged him to talk to Longbottom, saying that he now had an ally on the staff of Hogwarts. Longbottom was neither a Head of House nor a Slytherin, he was a Gryiffindor and a piss-poor one at that, but he had to admit that his only other option was to continue the status quo. After all the changes the last six months had brought, the status quo was no longer acceptable.  
  
\--------  
  
"Severus?" Harry asked from the doorway just after lunch. Snape was sitting at the kitchen table scratching something onto a sheet of parchment. The smug smirk he always wore when he thought no one was looking disappeared as soon as he noticed Harry.  
  
"Go away, Potter, I'm busy."  
  
"That's not what Hermione just said."  
  
Snape scowled at Harry and conceded, putting down his quill.  
  
"Very well, Potter, what is it? And don't waste my time."  
  
"Wouldn't dream of it," Harry said, making himself quite at home in the seat directly across from Snape. Snape looked… good. Relaxed, definitely more relaxed. Harry figured it was a combination of extra hands, healthier children, and, ahem, Hermione. He would keep these thoughts to himself, of course. He wasn't that stupid.  
  
"I thought about what you told me a few weeks back, about how dangerous my job is given my new responsibilities. I don't know if Hermione's mentioned it or not, but I've decided to leave the Auror Office." Severus's expression remained unchanged, but he crossed his arms and inclined his head. Hermione must have mentioned something. "Anyway, I want to do something different with my life, no more chasing after Dark Wizards. Hermione walked away from her dead-end Ministry job and has seemed really happy here, and I can see it made a difference. What you're doing here is more important than anything the Ministry is doing right now, for them or for anyone else."  
  
"Your point, Potter?"  
  
"I want to join up too. Full time. Like Luna and Hermione."  
  
Snape's face went pale. "No."  
  
"What do you mean, 'no,' you can't just reject me because you don't like me."  
  
"This is my program. Of course I can reject you just because I don't like you."  
  
"No, this is  _our_  program. You'd still be in the dungeon of that god-forsaken place with all of them if not for me and Hermione. I can help and you know I can help."  
  
Snape sighed. "To do what? What possible skills can you impart that you haven't been assigned to do already?"  
  
"Self-defence, for one. It sounds like many of them need it when they get to Hogwarts, particularly if they're being targeted by bullies. And believe it or not I wasn't bad at maths in school. I know Neville and Hermione have been sharing that subject back and forth, but I think you'd be impressed."  
  
"Given that you could rarely add the correct number of porcupine quills to a simple first-year boil cure potion, I cannot say that I believe you."  
  
"I'm disappointed, Severus. You have to reach back nearly thirteen years to come up with a relevant insult." This earned Harry another glare. No surprise there. "I know that you and I have an uneasy history, but you know that I'm devoted to this project as much as Hermione is. If not for you, for them. And if not for them, for Hermione. I know she'd be happy to see us working together more closely."  
  
"Potter…"  
  
"And honestly, Severus, I carry a lot of clout with the Ministry still. I can work full time to get you the resources you need—services at Hogwarts. Did we ever have a counselor there? I know I didn't, and I also know that I could have used one in my teens, and I was far from the only person who did. Most of the kids there probably suffer some sort of war trauma, and I could get them to pay attention. It would help everyone there, including and especially the kids for whom you are a guardian. And that's only the tip of the iceberg. I'm sure there's more we could do.  
  
"But most of all, Severus… I'd really like to be your friend. After everything that's passed between us, and everything that we now know, I would really like to call you my friend."  
  
Snape uncrossed his arms in a flash and leaned over the table, giving Harry a murderous glare, pointing his finger in Harry's face.  
  
"You listen to me Potter. I am not your friend and I never will be. I have no desire to be your friend. Not then, not now, and not ever. I don't know where this hero worship is coming from, but I assure you that it is unfounded and you only persist in making yourself out to be a bigger dunderhead than I ever imagined you could be. I am no hero and no person to befriend. And the fact that your friend and I have… are… it changes nothing between us."  
  
Harry leaned forward to meet his former teacher eye-to-eye as equals. He knew this game and was no longer intimidated by this man. He could now see his cutting remarks for what they were: a defence mechanism. He spoke in the calm, even voice that had become his staple in the years since the war.  
  
"Whether you are prepared to accept it or not, you are a hero. You were asked to perform the impossible and you did the unthinkable, all for the greater good. You were at the right hand of the devil and directed him in ways that are both masterful and powerful, saving countless lives. That alone makes you a hero.  
  
"But you also show a great capacity for love and loyalty. You loved my mother far longer and far more deeply than my father ever did, and you protected me far better than he or anyone else ever could. You and I both know what could have happened had you made a single decision differently, had you not loved so deeply, and had you not taken your loyalty so seriously. That makes you a good man and a hero. And it makes me a bad person for leaving you for death in that Boat House, something for which I will forever be ashamed."  
  
Snape made to interrupt but Harry held up his hand to stop him. Surprisingly, Snape let him continue.  
  
"Like it or not, Severus, you are one of the good guys. You can stop hiding in the shadows now and continue to do the great things you are doing. Just accept the help that is being offered. You know I have no talent for Occlumency—see if I have an ulterior motive. I signed up to be a part of this months ago, and now I want to embrace that commitment more fully. I want to do it because I believe it's the right thing to do, but also because I owe it to you to help you build something that matters to you. Like it or not, I owe you, Severus. Call it a life debt, call it survivor's guilt, call it what you want: I am in your debt and I want to repay it. I will not accept you discharging it or denying it. I want to help you. Let me help you."  
  
Snape stared at Harry for a long time, his face a mask, yet Harry could see his Adam's apple bob once as he swallowed. Harry pretended not to notice.  
  
"I know you've got a cutting remark prepared about how moving my little speech was, but rather than play that game, just accept that I will be here at nine o'clock on the tenth of September; I have to give my notice to the Auror Office. We can't all leave in a blaze of glory like Hermione. I have no doubt you will have plenty of work ready for me."  
  
Seized with true Gryffindor nerve, he reached out and patted Snape on the shoulder as he left. "Have a good day, Severus."  
  
\------------  
  
Severus didn't often miss his time at Hogwarts, but at this moment he very much his ability to scare the shite out of other people. With his billowing black robes and curtains of dark black hair and unfeeling black eyes and the ability to perform black magic, he had maintained the upper hand in nearly every situation he encountered.  
  
Now, sitting in a kitchen with lilac walls wearing light grey shirtsleeves and with hair that fell softly around his face in light waves, he was rendered more or less impotent.  
  
At least he still had the same eyes.  
  
Harry Potter had out-talked him. Harry  _fucking_  Potter would now be working here. Full-time.  
  
Severus leaned back in his chair and exhaled, looking up to the ceiling as if asking God what he had done to deserve such a fate, before realising that, like most of his personal tragedies, he had brought this one upon himself.  
  
 _Had to give him careers advice_ , the voice mocked.  _Had to tell him exactly what you thought. And now he'll be here all day, every day. No avoiding him now._  
  
That was the thing, wasn't it? As it happened now, Severus could mostly avoid Potter whenever he was here. He worked full-time and went home to his family at night. He came only on weekends, maybe an evening or two during the week, and Severus could usually avoid him. At least it wasn't all day, every day. Now it would be.  
  
Severus groaned.  
  
\----------  
  
Hermione, ever a creature of habit, sat at her desk in her bedroom using a planner to map out when and what she would teach to the children that week—colour-coded, of course—when Severus burst in, slamming the door behind him. He stood next to her, glaring down at her over his hook nose, his expression murderous.  
  
"What?" Hermione asked dumbly, at a loss for what would make Severus so upset. He had seemed fine that morning…  
  
"What have you said to Potter?" He demanded.  
  
"What do you mean?" She was lost.  
  
"What have you told Potter?" He repeated himself, this time with more venom in his voice.  
  
She stood up, uncrossed his arms, and gently took his hands in hers. His hands were cold and tense. "What's wrong, Severus?"  
  
Practically spitting the words out, he ranted, "Potter has just barged in and announced that he will be leaving his job at the Auror Office to come join you, me, and Lovegood here full time. He also shared some ideas he has for expanding services at Hogwarts and for those who have left Hogwarts." He narrowed his eyes at her.  
  
"That's brilliant, Severus!" Hermione said. "You've now got four people doing the work you used to do all on your own, and now you are freed up to do all the things you talked about doing!" Despite her cheery tone, Severus seemed unmoved. "What's the matter, I thought this was what you wanted?"  
  
Severus seethed. "I know this was your idea—Potter has never had an original idea in his life; every plan he ever had came from you and I know that this is no different. I told you not to meddle with this sort of thing, and now you've gone and got Harry fucking Potter involved in all of this."  
  
"Now you wait a moment," Hermione said sharply. "I did nothing of the sort. Harry and I talked to you about this, together, in your office, months ago, when we first proposed this endeavour. And leaving the Auror Office was Harry's idea and Harry's alone. He thinks it's too risky a position now that he has a family and he really believes in the work here. A sentiment that, if I remember correctly, you shared. You yourself have expressed a desire to have more help and now you have it."  
  
He refused to meet her eye. "Is this about what he proposed to you, or the fact that it was he who proposed it?" she asked pointedly. Again he refused to respond. His face was taut and inscrutable, all lines and angles. She could feel the tension in his hands, see the strain in his eyes, and knew that he was nearly at his breaking point. Something about Harry, or just Potters in general, had the ability to take the most controlled man she had ever met and render him utterly apoplectic. Hermione realised that he was not so much angry as he was distressed at the idea of being in such proximity to a Potter for so many hours of every single day, in his own home, even one who had long since proven himself an ally.  
  
What was it that Harry had once said Dumbledore said about Severus and James after their disastrous Occlumency lessons? Some wounds run too deep for the healing. But had anyone ever really tried to help Severus heal these wounds? Or just expected him to ignore them until they went away?  
  
"Severus," she said, trying to maintain a gentle and even tone with him. "Severus, do you trust me?" He finally met her eyes, and for a long time brown and black eyes locked on one another. "Do you trust me, Severus?" she asked, this time in a whisper, squeezing his hands as she did so.  
  
He let out a deep sigh that was almost a shudder, shut his eyes, and after a long moment gave the faintest of nods. She squeezed his hands tighter and took a step closer.  
  
"You know I care about these children as much as you do, right? Their well-being?" Again, a very faint nod. She closed the gap between them just a little bit more.  
  
"I'm going to ask you to trust me about one more thing, Severus. I'm going to ask you to trust that my best friend wants the same things I do, and that you trust that I would not have involved him if I didn't believe with every fibre of my being that he would be nothing but an asset to you." She squeezed his hands one more time and then took one last step forward, enveloping him in her arms. He leaned into her and pressed his face into her hair but did not wrap his arms around her in turn.  
  
"Severus, I know that your history with Harry is complicated and painful, and I know that even after all this time it is still very difficult for you to separate him from James and Lily. I know his very existence is a regret to you." She rubbed her hands up and down his back, trying to relax him. "I know what you showed him back in the Boat House," she whispered. "I never saw the memories myself, and he didn't tell me everything he saw, he only mentioned your feelings about Lily. It was immediately after Voldemort fell and we thought you were dead. I'm so sorry."  
  
She had never explicitly told him that she knew what he had revealed to Harry on that horrible night, and he had never asked. She half expected him to push her away, to scream at her, to throw her out. She thought he might begin another tirade against Harry for betraying such information to others. He was an intensely private person, and these were his most private thoughts and feelings. But he did none of these things. He instead let out another shuddering sigh and slowly threaded his arms under Hermione's to wrap them around her waist. She hoped this meant she was forgiven for knowing such things.  
  
"Severus, you are Harry's last link to his parents. He admires you so much, so much, for what you did for them and for him. And with everyone he, we, lost in the war," her voice began to catch but she willed herself not to cry, "he feels like he lost his connection to them. Everyone who knew and loved them in life is no longer here for him to talk to. Except for you. Harry wants to be close to you because he knows that you were a large part of his mother's life. Everyone talked about James when they were alive, but no one ever talked about Lily. Not even Dumbledore.  
  
"I can't explain to you how upset he was that he never got to learn about her from the people who knew her best. And now… now you're in his life. He doesn't want to pester you or bring up unfriendly memories. It's just…now that he knows what your relationship was, he wants to know more about you, because Lily would never have been friends with you had you not been a good person with a good soul.  
  
"As for his work here, you already know his motivations for that so I won't go over them again. But please, give Harry a chance. We were only children back then, when your relationship was at its worst. I think that you like me quite a bit better now that you know me as an adult, yes?"  
  
She gave him a squeeze in an attempt to bring some levity into the discussion. He said nothing, but squeezed back and gave a little huff of breath and another small nod. "I don't think you ever knew James as an adult, because in truth he never got to become one. And I know that Harry was far from your favourite pupil." Another squeeze. "But as the person who knows Harry more than just about anyone, I can tell you that he has grown into a thoughtful man who values love and loyalty, and I think he's a man you might want to get to know. And even if you don't," she pulled away slightly to press a kiss to his forehead, "trust at least that he is working on your side toward your goals."  
  
Severus stood there, arms wrapped around hers, head buried in her hair. She thought she felt him tremble just slightly, so slightly that she couldn't be sure it actually happened. Then he spoke in a voice so quiet and small Hermione had to strain to hear him.  
  
"People don't just want to help me," he said. "And I'm not the man either of you think I am, the things I've done…"  
  
"Oh, Severus," Hermione whispered. "I do know what you have done, and I do know the kind of man you are. And I'm not the only one, either.  
  
"You are a good man who has paid his debts ten times over. You are a man people want to help. That may not have been true in your old life, but it is true in this life. I can promise you it will be true as long as you have me. Remember, you trust me, right?" She squeezed him and felt him squeeze back.  
  
"Severus, I promise you that I will never, ever, betray that trust."  
  
He finally lifted his head to meet hers, his eyes glistening but swimming in pain and fear. He had let his mask drop and she knew, just knew, that he was waiting for her to betray him. For another Potter to ruin his life. She brought her hands to his cheeks and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. She could taste salt on them and knew he had let a few tears fall in their embrace. As she drew away, he grasped her wrists with his hands and pulled her in for another kiss. This one was deeper, more desperate. They pulled closer together, wrapping themselves around each other.  
  
"Where are they?" Hermione whispered between kisses.  
  
"Out with Lovegood," Severus breathed.  
  
"Thank God." She kissed him again, tugging him by the hand toward the bed, hoping that her actions would help him trust her words. Words had probably meant very little to Severus in his life, but she knew that if he were to trust anything, it would be action.  
  
\------------  
  
Severus watched Hermione doze in the circle of his arms. Just an hour ago he had been almost beside himself at the thought of Potter making more frequent appearances. With a few words of assurance and tender lovemaking, she had brought him back from the brink.  
  
He would never admit it but he was ashamed of his reaction. He knew, rationally and intellectually, that Potter was not his father. He had proved loyal in his commitment to the children and had been very accommodating, even supportive, of his... of him and Hermione. In the last few months he had grudgingly agreed with Dumbledore's opinion that he was far more like Lily than James. He also knew that James had been dead for twenty-five years and would never be able to hurt him again. Intellectually, he knew all of this.  
  
But for all his iron-clad self-control and ability to compartmentalise himself, when it came to the Potter family, he completely lost it.  
  
It was pathetic and weak.  
  
Surprising himself, he had not been upset that she knew about his feelings for Lily and his reasons for betraying the Dark Lord. His initial reaction had been one of relief, that it had saved him from having to tell her himself.  
  
He gazed at the sleeping witch in his arms, her mouth slightly open and soft snore escaping her. She had asked him if he trusted her and her judgment about Potter. Here, and only here, in the privacy of her room, he had admitted to her that he did. He trusted her in spite of himself, as much as the voice in his head had been screaming at him that she didn't mean it, that she was just lulling him into a sense of false security, that she, too, would betray him as soon as she had taken whatever she needed from him.  
  
It was a difficult voice to ignore. He had nearly spat all those words out at her. Only the strong feeling of warmth in his heart, that told him that she was good and good for him, stilled his hand. Now that he was calm and lying beside her, he knew he had made the right decision.  
  
\---------  
  
Neville wasn't exactly scared of Snape anymore, but Merlin if it wasn't still intimidating as hell to be in his presence. He could almost read it in Snape's smirk:  _I've still got it._  
  
Luna, Harry and Hermione kept raving about how much more approachable Snape was now. It was a load of bollocks as far as Neville was concerned.  
  
 _You did successfully hold a wand to his throat_ , he thought.  
  
 _Only because he let you._  
  
One of Snape's charges, Leopold, was headed to Hogwarts. "I trust I can count on you making yourself available to him as a resource should trouble find him?" Snape asked in the same cold voice he always used when Neville had messed up a potion.  
  
Neville nodded. "I do so for all my students."  
  
"Mr. Clairemont is going to need more help than the average student, and being a likely Slytherin, he will not seek it out. I have advised him to do so, but to seek help is a weakness that most Slytherins will go out of their way to avoid."  
  
"I understand, Severus, and I am telling you, I make myself available to all students and you can trust that if I am made aware of anything, or even suspicious of anything, I will do all that I can to intervene. In fact, I'll try to set up a weekly meeting with him to see if I ever detect anything amiss."  
  
"See that you do," Snape said, his voice dripping with the threat of what would happen if Neville did not. "You did not do so for past students who came through the halls of Hogwarts.  
  
Neville thought this was unfair. This would only be his second full year as a professor, and the student who dropped out last year, Reynard Selwyn, did so in the first term, when Neville was still learning both the ropes of Hogwarts and the names of all of his students. However, he knew better than to defend himself in this regard. Snape would not be satisfied without cutting him down a little bit, and Neville decided that today, he would be the bigger man and let him do it.  
  
"I will keep you apprised of everything I learn," Neville offered. "I'll be here a couple afternoons per week as well as on weekends so we can talk then, and if there's anything quite urgent, I can have Luna tell you about it."  
  
Snape seemed satisfied with this but contempt still burned in his eyes. Neville had long since learned that, when it came to Severus Snape, this was probably all he was ever going to get.  
  
\----------  
  
Leopold Rosier, now Leopold Clairemont, tugged on his clothing (secondhand but not as shabby as that which he used to wear at the orphanage) as he sized up the Hogwarts Express. He had never seen a train before, at least not up close, and the impressive red engine and billowing black smoke seemed like some great beast that was about to take him away. It was invigorating.  
  
Miss Granger had come with him to see him off. In the past, the Ministry had simply dropped children from the orphanage off at Kings Cross and trusted them to find their way to Platform 9 ¾; there was no one available to walk them through the wall to the platform itself, let alone see them onto the train.  
  
Now that Mr. Snape had moved them out of that horrible place and had a group of grown-ups he could trust helping him, someone was available to come with him. Leopold would never have admitted it, but it was a little scary, leaving his sister and the only place that had really felt like home to move to an imposing and faraway castle. Miss Granger spoke with him the whole way there, telling him about Hogwarts and the friends he would make there. Mr. Snape had said to be suspicious of everyone who sought out his friendship, but hopefully his new surname would spare him that. Miss Granger at least seemed to think so.  
  
"Now if you ever need anything or just want to talk, I want you to owl me," she said. "Mr. Snape is also available to you, but I'm here for you too. If you run into any trouble, I want you to go to Professor Longbottom; he will help you out. And I want you to owl me or Mr. Snape as well."  
  
Leopold nodded. Miss Granger was so different from Mr. Snape. It was probably because she was a Gryffindor like Mr. Potter. Gryffindors talked too much for Leopold's liking, but they were also more open. Leopold couldn't decide yet if he liked that.  
  
"Gryffindors speak first and think second, if at all," Mr. Snape had said. "It is an unfortunate affliction that cannot be helped. Pity them; it is one with which they must live every day."  
  
"Thank you for everything, Miss Granger," Leopold said, drawing himself up to his full height, which reached only to Miss Granger's shoulder. "I will owl you tonight to let you know where I was sorted. Hopefully I will not need to trouble you much this year."  
  
He looked around him. Teary-eyed grown-ups were hugging and kissing their children good-bye. Is this what would have happened to him, had his parents not been lost? Would he too have been kissed and patted on the head? Would his mother have cried? Would his father have come? Would they have written him frequently?  
  
Leopold liked to think that they would have done.  
  
"It's no trouble, Leopold," Miss Granger said. "Everyone should have someone to write to whilst at Hogwarts. I know Ermengarde will be thrilled to receive owls from you, but I'm just letting you know that you have others who will be thinking of you this year." She then demonstrated another unfortunate Gryffindor trait—a chronic desire to hug. She pulled him in for a quick hug then pulled away to look at him. "Best of luck this year, Leopold."  
  
"Thank you, Miss Granger," Leopold said. "I'd best get on the train now."  
  
He boarded, looking for an empty compartment where he could ride to the castle in peace. Finding one, he slipped inside and hoped that no one else would join him. He fancied himself a spy or secret agent or a super hero—taking a train to a mysterious location under an assumed name. He would need time to prepare his cover.  
  
You are no longer a Rosier, he told himself. That name no longer holds any meaning for you. You are a Clairemont. Like Mum. Clairemonts were not Death Eaters, and neither were you. No one need give you any trouble over it.  
  
He knew he could handle anything Hogwarts threw at him—bullies, hexes, Gryffindors. But he hoped he wouldn't have to just yet.  
  
He got both wishes on the train: a compartment to himself and no trouble from others. As he sat on the stool in the middle of the Great Hall, with the Sorting Hat perched upon his head, he looked over at the Slytherin table. The students there looked suspicious and aloof, as if it were them against the entire school. That was a familiar position to Leopold. Good. They could band together.  
  
 _"Not a bad mind,"_  mused the Sorting Hat.  _"A very strong desire to prove yourself, oh yes, very strong, that. And yet there is also some bravery I detect, and fierce loyalty to those whom you trust. Oh, but where to put you..."_  
  
The students at the three other House tables eyed Slytherin with looks of pure loathing, as Mr. Snape said they would. He couldn't help but narrow his eyes at them. Judging Slytherins for being Slytherins. It was unfair.  
  
"My whole family's been in Slytherin," he muttered so low that no one but the Hat could hear.  
  
 _"And yet I sense a very strong desire to deviate from your family's past, its history, even its name..."_  
  
Leopold's eyebrows shot up to his brow. How could the Hat know?  
  
As if it could hear his thoughts, the hat replied,  _"I know everything about you, Leopold Rosier."_  
  
Leopold fidgeted; this seemed to be taking much longer than it took the other students. He wondered if there was something wrong with him. The Sorting Hat's proclamation ripped his thoughts back to reality and left him gaping as thunderous applause sounded.  
  
"Gryffindor!"


	13. Many Happy Returns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You drop this bombshell on me and then decide you'll let me 'decide what to do' with the information?" Not even Severus at his most evil would have left an enemy out to dry like this.

"You're having me on."  
  
Hermione shook her head and handed Severus the letter that Leopold had sent. He read it, brow furrowing in confusion.  
  
What the  _hell_  was Leopold Clairemont doing in Gryffindor?  
  
Severus had never, ever, misjudged a student's House before. Ever. When Dumbledore had oh-so-tactfully implied that Severus was more Gryffindor than Slytherin, as if being a Slytherin was anything to be ashamed of, Severus had stood there stunned because the Sorting Hat had never, ever, got it wrong. He had even accepted Longbottom in Gryffindor, even though the boy had had Hufflepuff written all over his ridiculous pudgy face for his first five years at Hogwarts. He had accepted Percy Weasley as a Gryffindor, even though his ambition outshone even the most die-hard Slytherin. He had not even questioned Hermione's placement in Gryffindor, as he knew from personal experience that the student with the top marks was not always a Ravenclaw. For most of the seventies, after all, it had been a Slytherin who graduated top of his class.  
  
So if the Hat was always right, this would mean that Severus was wrong. But how? Leopold was about as Gryffindor as, well, Severus was. He had known the boy for his whole life and he had been in his care since he was five years old. Leopold was crafty, he was controlled, he betrayed no emotion. He was  _mature_ , for fuck's sake. None of those were Gryffindor traits.  
  
Was it the influence of Hermione, Potter, and Longbottom? Had he mistakenly let too much Gryffindor into the house? Was it catching?  
  
Well, at least the boy would now have a fighting chance. Between his new name and his new house, he was as protected as he possibly could be whilst at Hogwarts. The boy might make it. Might. Severus had given up optimism on the subject.  
  
He sighed and rubbed his eyes. He hadn't been sleeping much. His nights with Hermione had brought him the most rest he had enjoyed in decades, perhaps his whole life. But Leopold's departure had created a disruption in the house. For one, Ermengarde Rosier was convinced she'd never see her brother again (like her elder sister) and had been inconsolable for hours until Severus had finally had to give her a calming draught. She couldn't stay in a room alone, so she had moved in with Margaret Macnair, whose panic attacks returned as a result of her new roommate's anxiety. If one wasn't waking up in a screaming fit, it was the other, which would result in two terrified screaming girls for Severus, Hermione, and occasionally Lovegood to deal with.  
  
Severus had taken the children off the sleeping potion for fear that they were becoming dependent on it. If this week was any indication, he had been correct. They were dependent on it, and the additional disruption was only making matters worse.  
  
Severus supposed he shouldn't be too surprised when, less than a week after the Sorting, Lovegood approached him at his makeshift desk at the kitchen table.  
  
"Severus, I understand you have a spare room available now that Ermengarde is sharing with the other girls?" she asked without preamble.  
  
He had no idea what she was on about. His reply was to finish the sentence he had been writing and looking up at her with as much disdain as he could muster.  
  
"You've had to floo me every night this week and many nights previously to help you calm down screaming children," Lovegood continued cheerily. "I think logic would dictate that I begin staying overnight, and now that you have a spare room I should occupy it. It would make me the first person they see in the event of an attack and perhaps I can head off the worst of it."  
  
Severus's face remained inscrutable. It probably wasn't a bad idea, but Severus really, really didn't want Lovegood living under the same roof as him.  
  
"I know you're torn because on the one hand it would be nice to have the extra help but on the other, well, you would rather I not live under the same roof."  
  
 _Merlin! How does the witch do that?_  Hermione kept saying that Lovegood was merely insightful, but this girl was practically a Seer. Severus wondered for a moment if perhaps she was a Seer. Severus didn't believe in much, but he did believe in Seers. He had learned that lesson the hard way.  
  
"I may be running a home for orphaned children, Miss Lovegood, but that does not mean I accept any lost child," he said as coldly as he could.  
  
"I wouldn't expect you to," she replied. "But you have to admit that you need me. Hermione is here overnight for other reasons and doesn't live here, Neville only comes over on weekends, and Harry will be going to his own home at night to be with his family. So really, you're only accepting one more person, one whose skills you seem to need.  
  
"Anyway," Lovegood continued, apparently oblivious to Severus's private outrage, "I suggest we give it a week's trial and see how it goes. I promise to give you and Hermione your privacy and keep out of the way. Hopefully you'll agree that the positives outweigh the negatives."  
  
With that, she left. Having no choice but to agree with her, Severus groaned.  
  
\---------  
  
Hermione herself was toying with the idea of moving into Grimmauld Place, albeit for other reasons. She was spending more and more nights with Severus, always in her room, never in his. She actually had never been in the Master bedroom since their change in circumstances. He was intensely private and she didn't want to pry.  
  
It was becoming more and more of a hassle to wake up early and floo home to shower and change for work before any of the children woke up and saw her. It felt like they were sneaking around and hiding something illicit, which they really weren't. It wasn't anything they wanted plastered all over the front page of the  _Prophet_  (which it probably would if it did go public) but the friends who knew were discreet. The children had seen enough in their young lives that a pair of consenting adult lovers who were otherwise unattached should not be remotely traumatising. And Hermione spent all her days here anyway. It would make sense.  
  
At the same time, she didn't want to crowd Severus. What they had right now worked for them. It wasn't that they wanted to spend all their time apart, but she suspected that knowing that they could, that they were separately domiciled, was probably a comfort to him. His comfort zone had been pushed so much in the past six months, it would probably be suicidal to push it further.  
  
Anyway, enough about that. Presently she had to open the door and greet her newest colleague, whose full-time schedule began that day.  
  
"Professor Potter!" she exclaimed, opening the door with a great flourish. In the corner of her eye she could see Severus making his way to the kitchen, rolling his eyes.  
  
"Professor Granger!" Harry threw his arms around Hermione and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Between her increased time at Grimmauld Place and his growing family, the two had not had much time to see each other in recent weeks. It was an unhappy yet natural part of growing up, she knew, but she was glad that they would now be spending their days together again, just like the old days back at Hogwarts.  
  
Maybe he'll be the next one to want to move in, she thought wryly. Wouldn't that just be Severus's dream come true—housemates with Harry Potter and Luna Lovegood. Oh well, probably better than, say, a stint in Azkaban.  
  
Probably.  
  
"Come have a seat, we have awhile before we need to get to lessons," Hermione said, gesturing toward the settee nearest the fire. "You know, you should probably floo in the future—Severus wouldn't like too many people knowing we're here and he's afraid of us being spotted."  
  
"I would have done but it keeps blocking me for some reason."  
  
Probably punishment for his little unannounced visit. "I'll get him to remove it," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "How's Ginny getting on? She hasn't had much time to owl."  
  
"She's doing really well, baby's doing really well—it's going to be another boy."  
  
"Oh Harry that's wonderful!"  
  
"I meant to tell you; apparently if I don't barge into others' homes at daybreak I find myself failing to share news." They laughed. Good thing Severus wasn't out here, though he was probably listening in. He couldn't quite laugh about it yet.  
  
"How is James?"  
  
"Really good, he's sitting up now all on his own, he'll be ready to crawl any day now." He fumbled through his pocket and withdrew a picture of a black-haired, brown-eyed baby sitting before the fire, marveling at a golden snitch flying overhead, batting at it with a chubby hand.  
  
"A born seeker," Hermione said happily.  
  
"Of course he is—he's my son," Harry said with unmistakable pride. Hermione's heart swelled with happiness for her friend. This was all he'd ever wanted: a family of his own. A simple dream for one of the greatest living heroes alive in the Wizarding World. Hermione's thoughts turned to the other great living war hero, the one who'd shared her bed the night before. What were his dreams? What were hers?  
  
"More seriously," Harry said, drawing himself a bit closer to his friend, "How is he doing with all of this? I mean I know I'm hardly his favourite person, and he never explicitly gave me permission to come here, but the fact that I wasn't hexed into next week the moment I put my hand to the door gives me a faint hope that he accepts this."  
  
Hermione sighed and cast a nonverbal  _Muffliato_. If Severus was listening in, there was no reason for him to hear this. She would deal with the ramifications of blocking him out with his own spell later.  
  
"You have to understand, Harry, and I think you do, that he just hasn't been able to move past what happened with your father. Not completely, anyway. You remember what Dumbledore said—some wounds run too deep for the healing? Well, I don't think anyone, including him, has ever attempted to heal this. And there's a lot to heal—in his eyes, your father bullied him, harassed him, publicly humiliated him, and then stole away the girl he loved and married her himself. You know there's some truth to his impression of events."  
  
Harry nodded. He remembered his reaction to seeing Snape's memories in the pensieve all those years ago. How he had agreed with Snape's assessment of his father's character at that moment. How he had had to agree after viewing Snape's memories given to him in the Boat House.  
  
"So he's never been able to get past that, and you're this living, breathing reminder of the fact that she married James instead of him. I'm sure it pained him the first time he saw you in the Great Hall and saw her eyes in James's face. I think he made the decision to hate you right then and there, because hatred is easier to deal with than grief. I think it was easier for him to decide to hate the James in you than to grieve for the Lily that is also in there and evident to anyone who knew her."  
  
She grasped his hand and linked her fingers with his. One of them squeezed; she wasn't sure which.  
  
"I have given up on him liking me, Hermione," Harry said in a heavy voice. "I accept that he never will. But I do want to help him, and I don't think he believes that."  
  
"He does," Hermione said. "Believe it or not, he does believe that you are in earnest. Like you said, you weren't hexed into oblivion for attempting to come here today."  
  
"Did you still his hand?"  
  
"I might have done." She grinned, then lowered her voice to a whisper. "He trusts me and my judgment about you, and so he's letting you help. I guess I just wanted you to understand where he's coming from with all of this."  
  
"He told you all that?" Harry couldn't imagine Snape opening up like that to anyone, even his lover.  
  
Hermione shook her head. "Not in so many words. I've just… got to know him these past few months, that's all."  
  
"Yes, I bet you have," Harry said wickedly. Hermione playfully slapped him on the shoulder.  
  
"I guess I should stop showing him baby pictures then?"  
  
"Maybe for awhile."  
  
"I guess I can live with that." Harry looked away for a minute thoughtfully, then turned to look at his friend. "Do you think he'll ever be able to feel… neutrally about me? He knew Mum so well, and I just… he's the only one left who did."  
  
Hermione squeezed Harry's hand. "I don't know. I hope he can. For both of your sakes. If he could talk to you, he might be able to finally work through his grief for her and his hatred for your father. Maybe not full reconciliation, but at least closure." She sighed. "Would that we all could receive such a thing."  
  
This time, it was Harry's turn to squeeze her hand.  
  
\---------  
  
Severus ached for  _any_  excuse to hex Potter and turn him out of the house for good all day long. But Potter, little thorn in his side that he always was, denied him that.  
  
He did everything Severus asked of him. Everything. He'd even scrubbed a cauldron without magic and without complaint—something that he had never done back when he was a student.  
  
Severus supposed it was all a bit immature of him, but he did not want Potter in this house. Even if it did make Hermione happy. Even if he was not entirely hopeless as a teacher of simple non-magical subjects. All he needed was a reason to curse him, and Potter gave him none.  
  
Hell, even the children responded well when Severus had announced that morning over breakfast that Potter would now be a full-time volunteer on the staff. They had smiled. Smiled! At Potter! Traitors, all.  
  
Next thing he knew they listened to his lessons on maths, taken notes, and done well on his little quiz. Severus had observed from the back, giving him his very best Death Eater glare in hopes of tripping the boy up. Nothing; he had sailed through it all. The equations were even correct.  
  
Potter had left shortly before dinner, saying he needed to get home to his family. He had stood before Severus, green eyes flashing and a smile on his pathetic little face. "I want to thank you, Severus, for giving me this opportunity." And then he'd offered his bloody hand to shake!  
  
Just then Hermione had walked in. "Oh, are you leaving Harry?" she had asked absently. Not wanting to disappoint her (he had promised he would try) he took Potter's hand and gave it the quickest shake he possibly could.  
  
Hermione had beamed. Potter had beamed. Severus had scowled.  
  
After Potter mercifully left and Severus had shut the door behind him with a little more force than was probably necessary, Hermione had placed the lightest of touches on his arm and stood on tiptoe to give him a brief kiss on the cheek.  
  
"Thank you," she whispered. "Remember what I said to you."  
  
 _I will never betray your trust_ , she had said.  
  
 _Yes she will, they all do_ , the voice mocked.  
  
Severus found he did not want to listen to the voice. Hermione had just shown the first bit of affection outside the confines of her bedroom. It felt… good. If this was his reward for being nice to Potter ("nice" being defined liberally in this case), he might be open to trying it again.  
  
Of course, once he got Hermione upstairs, he might act as if he needed more of an incentive…  
  
\-----------  
  
Being a Gryffindor wasn't so bad, Leopold decided.  
  
Miss Granger had been positively thrilled when she received his owl and had immediately replied with all sorts of advice and tips and anecdotes about her time in Gryffindor tower. Her enthusiasm for a new Gryffindor was apparently a house trait; he found himself immediately welcomed into the fold. No one asked about his blood status, only about himself. When he mentioned that he lost his parents in the war, he received nothing but sympathy from his new housemates.  
  
He found them loud, boisterous, nosy, and a bit on the dumb side. But he found himself liking the tower and most of the people in it, despite himself.  
  
Professor Longbottom had sent him an owl asking him to "check in" once a week or so to make sure everything was going alright. Leopold had agreed (it was a teacher, after all) but also knew that it was far less likely that he would be harassed or singled out as a member of Gryffindor. He also got the impression that the staff would be more willing to provide him with some measure of protection based on his house alone. He just couldn't figure out why he had been placed in this house. What about him was Gryffindor? He felt welcome, for sure, but he also didn't feel as if he could really relate. Regardless, he decided to make the best of it.  
  
"Making the best of it" was a chore much improved after his third day.  
  
"Can I sit here?" Leopold looked up to see a girl with curly red hair and glasses standing next to him at the house table in the Great Hall. She wore a crooked Gryffindor tie and looked a bit nervous. Leopold nodded and indicated the seat to his right. She sat down.  
  
"I'm Clara Phillips," she said softly. Merlin her eyes were so blue.  
  
"Leopold Clairemont," he replied as if in a trance.  
  
"Are you reading for Charms?" she asked him, indicating the book open before him. He nodded. "I like Professor Flitwick," she continued. "Wasn't it exciting how we could just make things fly in the air?"  
  
Leopold had Mr. Snape do it nearly every day of his life, and so failed to see what was so exciting about it, but instead just nodded. "Real magic," he said.  
  
Clara exhaled breathlessly. "I had never properly done magic before this week." She looked at him nervously. "I was afraid I wouldn't be able to do it properly."  
  
"I saw you," Leopold said without thinking. "In class. You were the first one to do it. You were brilliant."  
  
Clara smiled at this. Leopold smiled back, trying not to blush.  
  
"Do you want to sit next to me in Charms this afternoon?" she whispered, not quite meeting his eye.  
  
Leopold nodded. "Yes, please," he whispered. The little girl positively beamed at him, picked up an apple from the table, and scarpered off with a little wave.  
  
Leopold watched her go. He hadn't much thought about girls before, but… well, he could see himself thinking about Clara Phillips quite a lot during his time at Hogwarts, however long that time might be.  
  
He only hoped that no one learned his secret.  
  
\-----------  
  
"All right, Severus?"  
  
Severus looked up with a scowl as Potter invited himself to sit down next to him during lunch. Severus and the others always ate with the children but Severus was often off to the side, immersed in his own thoughts or paperwork, not unlike the way he had done at Hogwarts.  
  
"Potter," he replied in a dispassionate voice, not meeting his eye. This passed for polite with him, at least when it came to Harry Potter.  
  
"Listen, Hermione and Luna are spending the lunch hour in Diagon Alley to do a bit of shopping so I figured this would be a good time to tell you."  
  
"Tell me what?"  
  
Potter's voice dropped to a whisper. "It's Hermione's birthday next Thursday, and knowing her she probably hasn't mentioned it."  
  
Severus felt the blood rush from his head.  
  
"No," he said slowly. "She hadn't."  
  
"I thought as much, she never does, don't worry. Well, now you know. I'll let you decide what to do with the information."  
  
Severus set his fork on the table a little too roughly, causing Potter to jump and the children to all turn in his direction. One glare from Severus was all it took to get them to turn back to their plates.  
  
"That's it?" he hissed. "You drop this bombshell on me and then decide you'll let me 'decide what to do' with the information?" Not even a hint as to what he would be expected of him? Was Potter playing some sort of fucking  _joke_  on him? Not even Severus at his most evil would have left an enemy out to dry like this.  
  
"Nervous, are you?" Potter gave a sympathetic smile. "Relax. Hermione doesn't expect anything on her birthday. With blokes for her two best mates, she hasn't exactly grown up sentimental about it, has she?"  
  
Severus could kill Potter for this. So she didn't expect anything from her friends. Severus thought rather he was more than a friend to her. That would create expectations… wouldn't it? But what would she expect?  
  
 _You fancy herself as more than a friend when you're probably even less than one_ , the voice said.  _She probably hasn't mentioned it because she would rather spend it with anyone but you_. Severus shook his head to silence it.  
  
"Potter…" Severus said softly. "I am not exactly... just a friend to her, am I?"  
  
Potter's eyes lit up and a smile crossed his face. "No, I guess you're not. Well, right then, you probably will want to do something for her. I'd be happy to, you know, help in any way that I can…"  
  
Severus racked his brain for every escape route he could think of, finally drawing up a blank. He would rather not ask anyone for advice on this. But Lovegood was probably useless with regard to this, Longbottom was useless with regard to anything, and Potter knew her better than anyone. But he really, really didn't want to have to ask Potter for help. He did not like owing anyone favours, least of all Potter.  
  
"I'd do this as a favour to her, not to you," Potter offered. "I know the idea of owing me any sort of favour is abhorrent to you."  
  
Was he really getting this easy to read? Lovegood was bad enough, but now even Potter could guess what he was thinking.  
  
 _How humiliating._  
  
He had to agree with the voice on this one.  
  
Potter patted Severus on the shoulder.  _Ugh._  "No worries, Severus, I'll help you through this. I had a first birthday to get through with Ginny once, and believe me, I was up all night in a cold sweat hoping I wouldn't screw it up. But you're in luck in that Hermione doesn't know that you know, so her expectations are probably pretty low, so by doing anything, you will have done right."  
  
The presence of fourteen young children was all that stayed Severus's hand from hexing Potter's tongue out of his bloody mouth.  
  
\----------  
  
Hermione dashed down the steps of Grimmauld Place after lessons on the evening of her birthday with her head buried in a book when she bumped into two warm objects holding a third, squirming warm object.  
  
"Harry! Ginny! What are you both doing here so late?"  
  
"Baby-sitting," Ginny said, handing James off to Harry in order to give her friend a hug. "Happy birthday love."  
  
"Thanks, Gin," Hermione said, still not comprehending why her friends would be here. "But what do you mean, baby-sitting?"  
  
"You and I have plans elsewhere," said a deep voice behind her. She turned to see Severus, wearing a coat and holding hers in his hand. "And we'd best get going if we are going to make them."  
  
"Plans?"  
  
"It is your birthday today, is it not?"  
  
Hermione stood there, dumbfounded. She had not told Severus it was her birthday, and had not expected him to do anything if he had known. He wasn't quite smiling, but his eyes were light—he looked like he genuinely wanted to do something with her, or for her. She gave him a smile and accepted her coat as he pulled it over her shoulders.  
  
"I guess we'd better get a move on, then," Hermione said. Severus said nothing as he opened the door for Hermione and gestured her to go through it. She missed him and Harry meeting each other's eyes, Harry offering a smile and a wink and Severus responding with an eyeroll.  
  
"If anything should happen, I will know," Severus said in parting.  
  
"I have no death wish," Harry replied.  
  
Once they got outside, Hermione felt Severus take her hand in his and pull her close into an embrace.  
  
"Happy birthday," he whispered, and then Disapparated them both.  
  
\----------  
  
Potter had told him that Hermione was neither materialistic nor interested in grand romantic gestures. She apparently hadn't been before the war and had become even less so afterward. Perfect. Severus was good at neither.  
  
Potter had also told him that Hermione loved nothing better than to eat good food and be in a safe, quiet, peaceful place. No forests, she had sworn them off after their months in the tent hunting Horcruxes (Severus had been surprised to realise just how long the three of them had spent in a tent—had it really been five months?). She was leery of both large crowds and enclosed places where she could not easily spot an exit. In public, she was constantly monitoring the people around her and prepared for any trouble.  
  
No gifts, no nature, no strange open places, no enclosed spaces, no crowds. Severus had decided that there was really only one option.  
  
It was becoming colder even in London at this time of year, but the seaside in Brighton was experiencing some unseasonable warmth. The moon was at three-quarters and waning, so there would be no need to fear werewolves. He had everything he needed tucked into a trouser pocket (no robes, not tonight) and Hermione in his arms. He hoped that he had chosen wisely.  
  
"Where are we, Severus?" Hermione asked after the world stopped spinning. He took her hand and led her forward out of the alley where he had Apparated them.  
  
"Brighton," he said softly. He squeezed her hand and said, "Don't worry—we're perfectly safe." He led her silently through the streets and down to the seashore, which was mercifully empty of people. He surreptitiously cast a few Muggle-repelling charms to make sure it stayed that way. One had to be cognizant of security, after all.  
  
The sea was calm that night, the only noise the quiet lapping of waves against the sand. The moon was alight in the soft twilight; the sky was periwinkle and fading into an inky black. Mercifully, there seemed to be no clouds in the sky. The stars would be on fire out here before long, particularly if Severus were to dim the lights on the street, which he planned to do.  
  
He led her toward the shore, far enough back that they would not be enveloped by the tide as it came in, and took a handkerchief from his pocket. With a flick of his wand it had transfigured into a large blanket, which he lay upon the ground. He took Hermione's hand and invited her to sit with him. He removed a small basket from his pocket that he had shrunk to the size of a thimble; after another flick, it had resized. A picnic basket.  
  
Severus told himself he was not being sentimental or romantic. It was merely a way of taking Hermione out that did not set her on edge. Even Potter had agreed it was probably a good choice for her. But Merlin if he didn't wonder if he had fallen head-first into a romance novel.  
  
Between her and the children, he almost didn't recognise himself anymore.  
  
Hermione, for her part, looked calm and happy. She had clearly not expected him to mark the occasion at all, let alone on a dinner for two under the moonlight by the sea.  
  
Severus considered that this was probably their first real date.  
  
"Severus this is…" Hermione's voice trailed off as he heard the emotion tinged in it. "I'm very touched." She let go of his hand and peered inside the basket. "You've gone to a lot of trouble."  
  
"I wish I could say I had, but it was no trouble at all. That accursed house-elf prepared the food and I merely thought of a place we could enjoy it privately. I am sorry that it is not more."  
  
"Don't be," Hermione said. "It is everything I would have wanted."  
  
For a long while they said nothing, eating their food in a companionable silence. They sipped the wine that Kreacher had packed and, after awhile, cast a refilling charm on it and drank some more, both ever mindful of what had happened the last time they had shared a drink. The sky darkened and the stars appeared twinkling, one by one.  
  
"What do you normally do on your birthday?" he asked her finally, slipping his arm around her shoulders.  
  
She sighed and leaned into him. "Since the war, nothing. I hadn't really wanted to draw attention to it or think about it. Even if you asked me my age right now it would take me a moment to remember it."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because in my head, most of the time, I am still an eighteen year old fugitive losing friends and family by the day," she said sadly. "And every year older I turn the more time I realise has gone by and the further away I am from all of them. The fact that so much time has passed scares me sometimes. So if I don't pay attention to my birthday, I can ignore it."  
  
Severus panicked and thought that he  _really_  shouldn't have listened to Potter.  
  
"But," she continued. "This is really wonderful, I've never done anything quite like this before. There's a simple beauty in this—in the sea. Something eternal. It makes me think that… I don't know, maybe I shouldn't feel guilty for living. Maybe I should enjoy my life. I know that if I had died I would have wanted my friends to live as they had before. I mean, what's the point of life if we are going to be afraid to live it, right?" She gave Severus an earnest smile and tilted her head up to give him a soft kiss. "So thank you, Severus. It is the best gift you could have given me."  
  
"An epiphany?"  
  
"Something like that."  
  
"I'm glad," he said. The night grew darker around them and, rather than light a fire that would attract attention, Severus relied on the light from the moon reflecting off the water. Darkness, shadows, were security to him. Darkness made him uncoil just a bit and access the emotions he buried so deeply and so unconsciously that he often forgot they were there. Here, in the moonlight and starlight and the gentle darkness of the sea and emboldened by the red wine staining his lips, he knew he could speak safely, honestly, just as he had that night in front of the fire.  
  
"You deserve to be happy, Hermione… I want you to be happy."  
  
"You do make me happy," Hermione said.  
  
Severus thought of something else Potter had told him:  _"Hermione is fragile. She doesn't do casual, but she also doesn't want to be hurt. If she is more than just a friend with benefits to you, this might be a good time to let her know that, if you haven't already."_  
  
He was also mindful of something his mother had told him decades earlier, when she had seen him dejected over Lily.  _"Faint heart never won fair lady, Severus."_  
  
"And you make me happy—happier than I have been in many years. But… there is something that I must tell you."  
  
He felt Hermione tense beneath his arm and he gave her a reassuring squeeze.  _She thinks you're going to end things with her on her birthday of all days_ , said the voice.  _You have a hell of a reputation, Snape._  
  
 _Screw your courage to the sticking place_ , he told himself, trying to ignore the voice's taunts.  
  
"For these past months our… time together is something that we have kept confined completely to the bedroom. We have yet to put a label on it or really talk about it. And while that has been wonderful, for me it is no longer enough." He turned her in his arms to face him, hoping that his courage would not fail him now. "Hermione, I want a real relationship with you. I don't want open affection between us in public or in front of the children, and I don't want to go on double-dates with the Potters, and I make no promises about the future, but I do know that I would like us to be a couple in every sense of the word."  
  
Hermione looked surprised but her eyes bespoke nothing but happiness. She nodded. "Me too, Severus. I want all of that. But I'm…"  
  
"I care about you," he said softly, cutting her off, afraid of what she might say if he allowed her to continue. "I care about you deeply, and want to be the one who makes you happy, who makes you forget all the horrors you lived through."  
  
"I want that too, Severus. But…"  
  
"But?" He held his breath, bracing himself for her rejection.  _At least I went down fighting…_  
  
"I'm afraid," she said in a small voice. "I'm afraid of getting hurt." She was as nervous about this as he was.  
  
"Hermione… I know that I told you that I cannot make you any promises about the future. I cannot promise that I will never hurt you, because I may inadvertently do so, but I will promise you that I will do everything I can to prevent your fears from being realised. You know that I do not give out my loyalty or my trust freely, and you have both."  
  
 _You're making a fool of yourself_ , the voice warned.  _She's only going to reject you._  
  
"Severus," Hermione whispered softly. She gazed at him, her eyes reflecting the sparkle of the stars and the moon in much the same way it had the light of the fire the first night they had been together. "I've been living in fear for years now. You already inspired me to take a risk professionally, and I'm very glad you did. I think… this is what I've been wanting for a long while. I want a relationship with you too. I want to think of you as my partner, not scramble for a noun every time I think about you. I've been trying to keep my emotions at bay because I was afraid they would not be reciprocated. I've been hurt before…" she trailed off. Severus knew she was talking about Weasley.  
  
"You don't have to be afraid, Hermione," Severus said, taking her face in his hands. "You promised me that you would never betray my trust, and I believe you. I promise you the same." He kissed her, softly, earnestly, deeply.  
  
"You're making a lot of promises for a man who just warned me that he would make me none," she teased.  
  
He smiled, really smiled, for the first time that night. "You have a way of making me break all of my rules," he said softly. "Perhaps it is time I rewrote them completely." He kissed her again.  
  
"Me too," she said.  
  
"Hermione… may I ask you a question?"  
  
"Of course, dear," she said. Dear. An endearment. He smiled more broadly.  
  
"Move into Grimmauld Place. Full time."  
  
"That's not a question."  
  
"Please. I want you to stay with me every night, in my room, in my bed. Together. Move out of your flat, you're never there anyway. Move out of your room, there's more space and privacy in mine. Be with me."  
  
Hermione's eyes flashed surprise and then confusion and then happiness. She nodded. "Okay," she said softly.  
  
 _You're only setting yourself up for disappointment_ , the voice said.  
  
 _Shut up_ , Severus told himself.  _I don't need to listen to this anymore._  
  
The voice disappeared.  
  
Severus pulled her head to his and kissed her fully and passionately, eventually rolling on top of her and pinning her to the blanket, the moan that escaped her hidden by the sound of the sea. Their hands were everywhere. He remembered himself enough, however, to realise that they were still in public, so he was able to muster just enough self-control to pull back before the need for more threatened to overtake him.  
  
"Take me home, Severus," she gasped. He nodded. He vanished the blanket and the basket and Disapparated them both, thinking of nothing but his bed in the master bedroom at Grimmauld Place. The strength of his focus ensured that they Apparated right on top of the bed, eliciting a laugh from Hermione.  
  
"It takes a powerful wizard to break his own anti-Apparition charms," she said with a smirk.  
  
"I think I've shown you before just how powerful I can be."  
  
"Oh yes, you've done that many times. But I would very much like a more... personal demonstration," she challenged. He had been a very fast learner with regard to that.  
  
He swallowed thickly, pushed her down onto the bed, climbed on top of her, and proceeded to do just that. Over and over.  
  
\---------  
  
They weren't sure what it was, but something about Grimmauld Place had agreed with James and he had fallen asleep earlier and with less fuss than ever before. Harry and Ginny had taken advantage of this and passed out on the sofa, mouths open, heads leaning into one another, at half seven in the evening. Luna had seen all the children to bed.  
  
Luna had shaken her head when she saw them.  _These were her reinforcements? Pathetic._  She had smiled and covered them with a blanket. Then she had flooed Neville and told him Snape was going to be occupied for the evening. The Potters had not even twitched as Neville loudly bounded up the stairs after his girlfriend and slammed her bedroom door.  
  
And so Number Twelve Grimmauld Place was full that night: fourteen children enjoying a rare sleep without nightmares; Severus and Hermione in his bedroom, celebrating and demonstrating their newly-confessed feelings for one another; Neville and Luna in her bedroom, sharing a few stolen hours before he was due back at Hogwarts; and Harry and Ginny, new parents sharing a blissful sleep in the ground floor sitting room, their son in their arms.  
  
When the Potters woke up the next morning, hair messy, eyes crispy, drool caked into odd patterns on their chins, Harry found a small scrap of parchment on the coffee table with two words written in the small, spiky handwriting of the Half Blood Prince. He smiled when he read it.  
  
 _Thank you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Screw your courage to the sticking place," is taken from Macbeth 1:7:61.


	14. En Ami

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Few things are impossible when magic is involved."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one of my favorite chapters to write. I hope you enjoy it.

Quidditch was more exhilarating than Leopold had thought imaginable. The players whizzed about on brooms so quickly Leopold thought he might injure his neck trying to follow them. He cheered his heart out for Gryffindor, even though they were playing Slytherin. And he very much enjoyed the company of his seatmate, Clara, who had insisted they come watch the game together. He had come only for her.  
  
While Leopold was hardly isolated, he was not exactly popular, and found it difficult to relate to other students. He found he just wasn't that interested in things that were important to them—house points, grades, things of that ilk. He had lost far too many important things and people in his life to care about these small considerations.  
  
Not everything was beneath his notice, however. One day in mid-October, Clara came up to him and shyly held out a small box. "My brother owled me some chocolate frogs—would you like one?"  
  
Leopold was not someone who cared for sweets and he had never even heard of chocolate frogs, but he nodded his head. Clara smiled and handed him a box. "Do you trade the cards?" she asked, taking a seat next to him and opening hers.  
  
Leopold had no idea what she was talking about but nodded anyway. He yelped when the little chocolate creature almost bounded out of the box and into his goblet of pumpkin juice, but he grabbed it just in time and stuffed it in his mouth. Clara laughed, munching on her own frog. "Who did you get?" she asked him, gesturing at the box. Leopold looked inside and saw a small card with the picture of a red-headed wizard grinning ear-to-ear as if appearing on a card was his crowning achievement. He read the name on the bottom out loud.  
  
"Ronald Bilius Weasley."  
  
"Oh, I don't have that one!" Clara said excitedly, taking the card from him. "Wow, he looks proud doesn't he? I got Snape again, sorry, I'm sure you've got loads of him." She handed him the card from her own box.  
  
Leopold looked down at the card and suppressed a surprised gasp. His hair was a mass of long black curtains around his face, his skin was more yellow than pale, and he wore menacing black robes, but he was unmistakably the same Severus Snape that Leopold had grown up with. The Snape in the card was scowling worse than Leopold had ever seen him, and at Leopold's look of awe, Snape huffed and stormed out of the frame.  
  
"He does that with everybody, don't take it personally," Clara said absently. "And don't worry, he's not gone for good, he comes back when he thinks no one is looking."  
  
Leopold barely heard her as he flipped the card over and read the myriad of accomplishments attributed to Severus Snape. He'd had no idea that this man was one of the greatest heroes of the Second Wizarding War. Why hadn't Mr. Snape said anything? He should be living the privileged life that came with such heroism, shouldn't he? What on Earth was he doing in an orphanage caring for the children of war criminals?  
  
Leopold flipped the card over again. Snape had returned, but as soon as he spotted that he was being watched, he fled the card again. Leopold wondered what he was running away from, both on the card and in real life. No one would voluntarily come to the orphanage, unless they were running from something.  
  
He wondered if Miss Granger would know anything about it.  
  
\---------  
  
"Severus?" Hermione whispered one night.  
  
"Hmm?" he replied sleepily.  
  
"You awake?"  
  
"I am now," he said, sounding more irritable than he felt. "What is it?"  
  
"I'm sorry, it's not important. Go back to sleep."  
  
"I'm up now and you wouldn't be asking me anything that wasn't important." He shifted around until he was lying on his side with his head propped up on his elbow, looking at Hermione intently. "Ask me."  
  
She sighed. "I wanted to ask you about… her."  
  
Severus knew she'd seen those memories and knew exactly who she was talking about. "What would you like to know?" he asked softly.  
  
"Do you still love her?"  
  
Merlin if that woman didn't go for the bloody jugular sometimes.  
  
"I understand if you do," she continued quickly. "And I wouldn't expect you to stop and I will never ask you to stop, but you said that you care about me and want a relationship with me and I guess I'm wondering what exactly that entails with you."  _Will I always be second to a ghost?_  
  
 _It had been nearly a month since her birthday. Why was she bringing this up now?_  He had half a mind to say that to her. It was also out of character for her—she never seemed the slightest bit insecure or jealous of his past, and she wasn't an emotional person, particularly for a Gryffindor. To bother him in the middle of the night with this was just odd. But it was late and he was tired and if he wanted to make this work (and get some sleep), he supposed he owed her an answer.  
  
"You've seen my Patronus," he said.  
  
"Months ago, when I first stayed here and read to them."  
  
He nodded, his voice thick. Even after all these years since her death, even after the end of the war, even after his months with Hermione, it was still difficult to talk about her. "Lily was an important part of my life for a long time. No, that's an understatement. She was my reason for living and fighting for more years than I care to think."  
  
Hermione nodded at this, not meeting his eyes. "What is she to you now?"  
  
Severus sighed. Even if he could speak about this easily, it was difficult to find words to explain it. He gave Hermione a kiss on the forehead and fumbled for words. "It would be a lie to say that I have stopped or ever will stop loving her in any way—she will always have a place in my heart, just as I know Weasley will always have a place in yours. But like all things, this too can evolve, and let us just say that I find that I have other, more important reasons for living now."  
  
She gave him a smile. "For them," she said softly. "They're so lucky to have you."  
  
"For them, yes, but there are other things as well." He knew he was conveying much more than he meant to, but the sentiment was true, so he did not correct it. "That night when I… when I almost died, and I gave Potter those memories, I truly thought it was the end. I thought, or rather, I knew, that it was my last chance to do anything. I could easily have just given Potter the memory in which Dumbledore said Potter would have to sacrifice himself. That would have accomplished my mission and probably would have been enough to get Potter to do it.  
  
"But instead, I guess… I sought exoneration, or reconciliation, if you will. I couldn't reconcile with Lily directly, so I had to do the next best thing and show the relevant bits of our history to her son. When it was over, all I could think of in those last few seconds was, 'I've now done everything I can to make it up to you. I hope it's enough.' I was able to let my guilt go, or most of it anyway. And I was able to apologise—lay it all out there and hope that it would be enough."  
  
"You succeeded at that. Harry was really touched," Hermione said, linking her hand in his. "Really touched. As far as he was concerned, you were completely absolved."  
  
"So I noticed. His bloody hero worship is both misplaced and taxing."  
  
"Let him. He appreciates you and forgives you and wants you to be happy."  
  
"So he keeps saying, but I still have trouble believing it sometimes."  
  
"Severus… it is alright to let your guard down with him. I know after all this time it's probably impossible, but if you were to take him up on his offer of friendship, I think you would find that he is truly a friend worth having."  
  
Severus thought about how Potter had tipped him off about Hermione's birthday, gave him the information he needed to make it special for her, and had even spent the evening at Grimmauld Place so that they could leave. He thought about how Potter had attempted conversation with him every bloody time he came over. Potter gave him his own house, mostly for the children but also for him. He thought about the things Potter had said about his own father.  
  
Friends with Potter. It was an idea that wasn't quite as abhorrent as it might have been, now that he really thought about it.  
  
"Severus?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"For what?"  
  
"For being honest with me. I love that you're honest with me."  
  
He smiled.  
  
"I always will be."  
  
\-----------  
  
"Potter," Severus said a week later.  
  
"Severus." Potter was reading the Quidditch page in the  _Evening Prophet_  and stuffing chips in his face. He was always eating these days. "Sympathy pregnancy," he'd called it.  
  
"Come with me."  
  
"Where?" Potter looked suspicious.  
  
Snape rolled his eyes. "To the feet of the Dark Lord, Potter," he said sarcastically. "Where do you think? We have some business to attend to with one of my graduates. I will not ask you twice." He spoke as if they were back in Potter's second year and he was ordering him into the dungeon for detention. He had really meant that he would not beg Potter to come with him, but Potter evidently interpreted it as a command and followed him uneasily.  
  
"What sort of business?" Potter asked warily as they stepped into the cold, foggy streets of London.  
  
"Unpleasant business." Severus gave him a strong do-not-ask-me-more glare, and Potter complied. As if hearing Potter's unasked question, Severus whispered, "I assure you it is nothing illegal or dangerous. You needn't worry about making Ginevra a widow tonight." Potter visibly relaxed at this. "I am not Albus Dumbledore and so do not believe in gambling with the lives of others if I can help it."  
  
"That's what you think Dumbledore did?" Potter asked, probably without thinking. There was no trace of defensiveness or accusation as there might have been years earlier. It was merely a question.  
  
"Don't you? You were the biggest pawn of all."  
  
Potter shrugged. "I had some deep moments of doubt during that last year, but I always trusted him. I still believe he did the right thing, even if I did emerge a bit worse for the wear. But then again, who doesn't after something like that?"  
  
"Hmm."  
  
They walked in silence for awhile before Potter began speaking. "Severus?"  
  
"What, Potter?"  
  
"Did you feel like he did the same thing to you?"  
  
"You've seen my memories. He manipulated me, betrayed my trust, used me, and did it all by using the grief and pain I felt as both carrot and stick to get me to do the most unthinkable and reprehensible actions. To say I felt like a pawn would be a gross understatement."  
  
Severus didn't know why he felt compelled to answer Potter, or give him an honest response, but he supposed it was Hermione's influence. One of these days that witch would be the death of him.  
  
"I'm really sorry he did that to you, Severus." Potter really did seem sorry. "He asked so much of you, and he used your most painful experiences to make it happen, especially after how he treated you as a student. Or, rather, how he let my father treat you as a student."  
  
"You needn't pour on the Gryffindor sentimentality, Potter, and this evening might be just a touch more tolerable if you did not."  
  
"Sorry, Severus, Gryffindor runs in my family. There's nothing for it." Next thing Severus knew, Potter's hand was on his shoulder, clapping him on the back as if they were school chums.  
  
"What the bloody hell are you doing, Potter?"  
  
"I, er, nothing," Potter said, hastily withdrawing his hand. After walking in silence, and without further touching, Potter spoke again. "Why me?"  
  
"Because I do not wish to go alone and I do not wish Hermione to see this. It is enough that I regret bringing her to the brothel that night. And," he said grimly, "it is my understanding that you have some experience in this area."  
  
\----------  
  
Harry knew better than most just how many regrets Severus Snape had in his life, but to hear it vocalised like that, and about his friend no less, was jarring. Snape had willingly invited him somewhere. Snape was talking to him—confiding in him, almost. Harry had half a mind to check him for spells or poisons or impersonation but knew that the only person who could get into Grimmauld Place without Severus Snape's permission was Severus Snape himself. He was being… not quite friendly, but not himself. Harry wondered if Hermione had something to do with this.  
  
Harry understood that Severus guarded his charges as much as any parent, and his graduates were the ones he felt the most protective of. Probably compensating for the fact that they were no longer physically in his care and that he felt personally responsible for any failures or wrong turns they took in their lives.  
  
Harry snorted internally.  _And Hermione says I have no intuition about others._  
  
They did not Apparate to their destination but merely walked the streets of London. It was late but there were people all about, and since both had grown up with at least one foot in the Muggle world, they blended in expertly. Harry had seen flashes of Snape's parents in the pensieve and heard about them in Snape's memories and the information Hermione had dug up back in their sixth year. Harry wondered if anything had changed since then; Snape had seemed to want nothing to do with his parents (why else would he effectively renounce his surname in his beloved textbook?) but Harry knew better than anyone that time and conflict could revise even the most strongly-held opinions about others.  
  
Becoming a father himself had made him more acutely aware of the import of a strong parent-child relationship, and he often wondered about those in his life who were not close with their parents. Hermione and her parents, before she Obliviated them, had become more and more distant as the gulf between the Muggle and Wizarding worlds widened. It was part of the reason she had not worked harder to reverse the memory charm; there was not much of a relationship left to bring back. Harry had suspected for some time that it was not as impossible to reverse the charm as she had led him to believe.  
  
He wondered if Snape's parents were still alive. Was his relationship with them improved?  
  
"Severus," Harry said. "Has Hermione talked to you at all about her parents?"  
  
Snape did not physically react but Harry still felt an aura of tension. "Not beyond what she told me in my office that first day you came to the orphanage. Why?"  
  
"Well… she has said that she can't reverse the memory charm on them, and you're an experienced Occlumens and Legillimens, and I was wondering if you agreed."  
  
Snape considered the question for a moment before responding. "It would really depend on the type of charm used and how it was used. Did she paper over existing memories or eliminate them completely? Did she do it with their blessing or against their will? Did she leave a trigger that would undo the charm, or do the memories have to be retrieved manually? Things of that nature. A variety of factors must be considered. Given what I do know, it does sound like it would be rather difficult to do."  
  
"But not impossible?"  
  
"Few things are impossible when magic is involved." Snape looked at Harry. "Does she wish to bring them back? She has not mentioned anything to me."  
  
Harry shook his head. "She says that she tried and that it was impossible and that she would rather they live in peace in Sydney than force them through the trauma, but I'm not sure I believe that. I know Hermione; she did not do this lightly, and I don't think she could have lived with herself if she did not leave a 'back door' if you will for her to reverse what she had done. Her intention was for it to be temporary but for it to be permanent in the event of her… well, in the event of her being unable to undo it."  
  
"You believe it could be undone?"  
  
Harry nodded. "I wouldn't begin to guess how, Auror training is limited to casting memory charms but not reversing them—a serious oversight in the program if you ask me, since Dark Wizards often Obliviate their victims. But I believe that it is possible and that she's avoiding it."  
  
"Should I be talking to you about this?" Snape looked a bit worried.  
  
"Better me than her," Harry said. "I mean, if she brings it up you should try to draw her out as much as possible, since she never does talk about them, but I would avoid bringing it up with her. They had a very uneasy relationship, especially toward the end. I would imagine most Muggle-borns go through it—they feel as if they have to choose between worlds, and the family feels left behind. You remember my Aunt Petunia—she resented my mother every day of her life, and still does to a certain extent. I think Hermione's parents never understood her, though they were proud of her, and there was very little Hermione could really share with them, particularly since she was my friend and therefore always getting into trouble with me."  
  
"So their relationship was… strained?"  
  
"I guess you could say that." Harry seized his Gryffindor courage and asked the question he wanted to. But he had to do it like a Slytherin. Subtle. "You sound like perhaps you know where she's coming from."  
  
Snape gave him a scowl but did not put much power behind it. "You've seen my memories; even you could probably draw an accurate conclusion."  
  
"Are you still in touch with them?"  
  
"Rather impossible. My parents died before I left Hogwarts." He spoke tersely but his tone of voice made it very clear that the subject was not to be broached.  
  
"I'm sorry to hear that," Harry said honestly.  
  
"Don't be."  
  
"But you were so young."  
  
"Older than you were when you lost yours, Potter. Do you wish to coddle me for it?"  
  
"You know I don't and even if I did, you wouldn't."  
  
"Then rest assured that I do not need anyone's pity."  
  
Harry suspected that this wasn't entirely true but wasn't going to push the matter further. He decided to turn the subject from the Snapes. "Well, I'm glad to hear that if Hermione ever does want to turn her parents back, she'll have you to help her."  
  
Snape rounded on Harry, startling him. "What makes you say that, Potter? Aren't you afraid that she's more vulnerable now, that there's an ex-Death Eater murderer who has such personal knowledge? Will you warn her that you divulged this? Haven't you been just itching to tell me that I ought to leave her alone?"  
  
"For the last time, no!" Harry practically shouted. "No. I trust you. I know I didn't always, but nobody did and frankly that seemed to be the plan, that nobody know your true motives because you would have been worthless as a double agent otherwise. But even if I didn't trust you, I would still say nothing on the subject. Hermione has the most flawless judgment of anyone I know, as she has proven time and time again, and if she believes that you're someone worth knowing and trusting, that's enough for me. And even I couldn't trust Hermione so implicitly, you were my mother's best and most loyal friend, and even if she failed to realise that in her lifetime, I will not. I think we can both agree that her judgment was beyond reproach."  
  
Harry was panting. He hadn't meant to give such an impassioned speech but, well, he couldn't help himself sometimes. He'd had to make a fair few in his lifetime.  
  
"Lily ended our relationship once she realised who I truly was. You are correct in that her judgment was beyond reproach."  
  
Harry rolled his eyes. "I know you didn't share every memory of your time with her, Severus, and that you probably didn't include all the key ones. I refuse to believe that my mother cut you off completely after that night, and I suspect that if I could find someone who would have known, they would confirm it. More likely that was the night you realised she would never love you back the way you wanted her to."  
  
"Tread lightly, Potter. I may have moved on in my life but do not stand here and talk about what you do not understand."  
  
Harry considered the situation. He knew that Snape was defensive and edgy, but not even he would be so insecure as to fear the condemnation of Harry for anything, let alone about a relationship that Harry had openly blessed from day one. The attack was so out of the blue it reminded Harry of their time at Hogwarts, and when Snape would find even the most tenuous of links between himself and his father, sometimes bringing him up out of thin air. Hermione had once pointed out that it happened most frequently during what would have been Snape's most stressful moments: Sirius on the loose, his Dark Mark growing darker, Umbridge and Voldemort and Dumbledore all making outrageous demands on his person. It was all enough to drive even the most balanced person to the end of their rope.  
  
More likely, Snape had opened up to Harry more than he had wanted to, or was at least outside of his comfort zone, and this was a defence mechanism to keep the distance he needed. If only Hermione could hear me now, Harry thought. One of the benefits of being married to Ginny was that she understood human emotions but was not herself emotional, and so Harry had learned a great deal.  
  
Well, if distance was what Snape wanted, distance was what Snape was going to get.  
  
"You said we had some unpleasant business to attend to?" Harry asked airily, signaling that the subject was closed.  
  
"Yes, we do. We'll need to Apparate." Snape grudgingly held out his arm.  
  
"If we needed to Apparate to our destination why have we been wandering around Muggle London for the past half hour?"  
  
Snape did not answer until after they had Apparated into a nondescript alley. "I don't know."  
  
\----------  
  
"Here." Severus produced a flask from his pocket and thrust it at Potter. "Drink this before we go further."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"A potion with which I believe you are quite familiar."  
  
Potter sniffed it. "Polyjuice. I take it we're going somewhere I won't want to be recognised?" Snape nodded. "Do I need to add the hairs?"  
  
Severus rolled his eyes. "Surely you have taken that concoction enough times in your life to be able to tell?"  
  
"Well forgive me for not being able to see through an opaque metal flask, Severus. Is it or isn't it ready?"  
  
"Of course it's ready, drink it now before I leave you behind."  
  
"I'm here as a favour to you," he heard Potter mutter before he gulp down the potion. His skin began to bubble like wax and soon there stood a thin blonde man in Harry Potter's place. Potter cast a nonverbal spell on the side of a building and a shimmering mirror appeared among the bricks. "Malfoy?" he exclaimed. "You turned me into Draco Malfoy?"  
  
"His face is more welcome in this corner of the world than yours," Severus said in a flat voice.  
  
"Do I want to know how you happened to have Draco Malfoy's hair on hand?"  
  
"I was a spy," was all Severus was willing to confess.  
  
Severus led Potter out of the alley and through a winding street. It was a Muggle part of North London that was frequented by down and out wizards, wizards who would not take kindly to seeing the Boy Who Lived. Severus tried to come here during the day whenever possible in order to forestall what he knew was going to happen, but today he had not been able to get away. He usually tried to do this solo, but felt that it was no longer wise. He was not alone in this anymore. He had to remember that.  
  
After walking briskly for a few minutes Severus began to walk more slowly, trying to find the person he was looking for. He wasn't always in the same place, but was always in the same general area. Some nights it was easier to spot him than others.  
  
"Oi, Sev'rus!" Severus and Potter turned quickly, wands brandished within a second, before lowering them. They recognised the face. It was as dirty as it had ever been.  
  
"Mundungus," Severus said. "Do you know where he is?"  
  
Mundungus Fletcher nodded and pointed to the right. "Passed out righ' in the middle of the road, din't 'e? Ravin' 'bout summat or other."  
  
"I figured as much. I'll take it from here. Thank you."  
  
Mundungus eyed Potter, as if he could tell it was really him, but said nothing.  
  
Severus led Potter toward the street that Mundungus had indicated. His pace quickening, he went to what otherwise looked like a pile of old rags in the middle of the street. He bent down and revealed to Potter that it was a very drugged-out teenage boy passed out in the street.  
  
"Is this…?"  
  
Severus nodded. "Xavier Yaxley. Sixteen years old. Lasted only a year and a half at Hogwarts before bullies pushed him out. Life on the outside has been…difficult for him." Severus calmly removed a phial of green potion from his pocket, lifted the boy's head, and poured it down his throat. He lay Xavier back down and waited for him to wake up. The boy stirred and opened his eyes, looking disorientated, and then began to twitch madly as if he was having a fit. When his eyes fell on Severus, they relaxed.  
  
"Mr. Snape," he rasped.  
  
"What are you on tonight, Xavier?" Severus asked calmly.  
  
"Bought some pills off a girl in Camden, said they'd help me sleep…"  
  
"I know when you're lying to me, Xavier," Severus said, his voice turning stern. "That potion is not enough to fully bring you out of this, you know it's only good for a few minutes of lucidity to diagnose the problem. Tell me what you're on."  
  
Yaxley dug his hand into his pocket clumsily and retrieved some small purple pills. He placed them in Severus's hands and passed out again.  
  
"What happened?" Potter asked.  
  
"This is just a mini sober-up potion. It suspends all symptoms and effects of a drug for two minutes so that the person can tell a Healer what he took, and allow the Healer to plan a cure accordingly. Unfortunately for Mr. Yaxley here, he ingested a Muggle substance, which St. Mungo's is not equipped for, and they would likely not treat him even if they could. I sadly know this from experience."  
  
"So what do we do? Bring him back to Grimmauld Place and get him the right potion?"  
  
Severus shook his head. "No, he needs Muggle medicine. We need to get him to a Muggle hospital. I need you to carry him whilst I cast a few healing charms as we walk. It's only going to be enough to keep him alive until we arrive; I cannot heal him completely."  
  
Potter bent down and took in the boy. Xavier's arms revealed dark track marks on his veins. The crook of his right elbow was nothing more than a festering wound. For sixteen he was painfully small and weak; he likely wasn't eating much, if at all, instead spending any money he came across on drugs. Severus knew of many of the drugs the boy had taken in his life—heroin and cocaine and LSD and methamphetamine. Severus recognised the small purple pills as an especially strong amphetamine.  
  
He eyed Potter for signs of judgment, but there were none. Even in Draco Malfoy's face, Harry Potter's well-known concern for the welfare of others, even strangers, shone through. He remembered what Hermione had told him of her suspicions about Potter's drug use after the war. Perhaps that had something to do with it. It had been a factor in Severus's decision to bring him tonight.  
  
Potter's eyes never left the boy's face. The look on concern on his own face was one that he might wear if this were his own son passed out on a dirty Muggle street.  _So much like his mother…_  
  
"This poor boy," Potter whispered. He stroked the boy's hair away from his sweat-covered forehead, and then, with a look to Severus, lifted the boy up into his arms. When he was ready to walk, he gave Severus a nod.  
  
"How did you know he would be here?"  
  
"Mr. Yaxley unfortunately seems to follow a pattern. He does well for a few weeks but then has a major relapse and requires aid. For some reason it seems to happen every seventy-five days."  
  
"It's not some sort of curse, is it?" Potter asked. "That would explain the pattern." No doubt he had seen some of the more creative, self-destructive curses during his tenure as an Auror. It probably wasn't out of the realm of possibility, but it would also likely be beyond Severus's ability to cure.  
  
"I cannot say," Severus said grimly. "Follow me."  
  
Severus didn't want to risk Apparition with Xavier in such a vulnerable state, so he and Potter silently trudged toward the nearest Muggle hospital. Fortunately, it was not far, and a few minutes and a Confundus charm later, any questions regarding who the boy was or how he got there vanished and Muggle doctors were all over him, bringing him out of his stupor and administering intravenous medication.  
  
"What do we do now?" Potter asked as he watched it all from the window.  
  
"We leave. He is getting the help that he requires. We are done here."  
  
Potter raised Draco's pale eyebrows at him in surprise. "You're not going to wait until he wakes up?"  
  
Severus shook his head. "There is no point. I am not next of kin or his legal guardian here or in the Magical world so I have no legal right to any information or even to be in there. He does not live with me. I cannot stop him from going out again tomorrow and pumping more of that filth into his body."  
  
Potter looked horrified. "But he… you can't just leave. He's just a boy!"  
  
"Potter, would that I could rescue each and every one of them, but as you know, I am stretched a bit thin. I have precious little influence over others, which is a right shame because if I did they would not live like this and the Dark Lord would have had far fewer followers. All I can do is rescue him  _tonight_ , make a difference for him  _tonight_ , and get him help  _tonight_. I hope that tomorrow he will make the right choices, but I cannot help what he will do tomorrow. I have fourteen underaged wizards in my house who need my time and attention more, who are literally helpless without me. I have fifteen graduates who are out in the world by themselves, and I only know the whereabouts of nine of them. All I can do is hope that the skills I taught them are enough, even though I am reminded each and every day that I did not do enough."  
  
"Is that really all you can do?  
  
"Yes, Potter, it is," Severus spat through clenched teeth. Did he honestly believe that he would willingly do nothing if he could do anything more?  
  
Potter was silent and looked contemplative. No doubt he was wondering how he could save the boy (damn him and his saviour complex) but finally nodded with resignation. "Alright, Severus, if you say so."  
  
They Apparated back to Grimmauld Place and Potter's polyjuiced complexion was just wearing off.  
  
"You kept your head together, Potter, that was good. Many would have been horrified at the sight of a sixteen year old who is as addicted to narcotics as Mr. Yaxley. Most would have judged him harshly."  
  
Potter nodded. "You were right, Severus, it wasn't pleasant. But… he's only a boy, one who's been dealt a terrible hand in life. I'm glad Hermione didn't see that. As you said, I have a bit of…exposure to this area. And, well, thank you for trusting me to come with you. I know you don't trust your graduates to just anyone."  
  
"You're welcome… Harry."  
  
\-----------  
  
Severus crawled into bed that night slowly, trying not to wake Hermione, who was sleeping peacefully on her side. He spooned up behind her and nuzzled her neck. Even though she pulled her hair back when she went to sleep, he could still smell the scent of orange blossoms wafting off of her hair.  
  
He thought of the Xavier Yaxley and how years of abuse and neglect had left him the broken person he was; a boy dead before he'd even had a chance to live. Severus knew how perilously close he himself had been to that fate, and how ironic it was that it had been the Dark Arts that had saved him from that fate.  
  
Not wanting to take a single thing in his life for granted, he squeezed Hermione tight and kissed her temple.  
  
"You're back," she murmured sleepily.  
  
"Mm hm."  
  
"How was it?"  
  
"You should get back to sleep."  
  
"That bad?"  
  
"Yes. And I had to endure Harry Potter's scorn."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"For not bringing him back with me."  
  
"But why…"  
  
"Hermione, please. If I could have done anything, don't you think I would have? Do you trust me so little?"  
  
"I didn't mean…"  
  
"My hands are tied in so many ways," he whispered.  
  
"Tell me."  
  
"Tell you what?"  
  
"Tell me how your hands are tied."  
  
He shook his head and sighed. "It's late."  
  
"Please, Severus."  
  
He sighed again. "Very well…"  
  
\------------  
  
"It was awful, Hermione, this little boy… he's only sixteen… and he's just been completely wasted away by the drugs," Harry said to his friend the next day. They were up in the attic, where they could be assured of privacy from both the children and adults. It was a Saturday so there were no lessons; Harry had come only to report on what had happened last night.  
  
Hermione sighed. "He won't hear of bringing any of them here. Says he can't."  
  
"I just… I can't understand it, Hermione. He's so dedicated to these kids, and he's so protective of the graduates, but when it comes down to it he will only go so far. He will help them a little but not enough to make a real difference. I know he feels responsible for it, but wouldn't that mean he'd want to do more for them? You know him better than I do, what do you think is going on."  
  
"I… I don't entirely understand it either, Harry. I think that this has been very hard for him. I think he's poured everything he could into this—his time, his money, his energy, and it all has gone pear-shaped. I think what keeps him going is his hope that he can prevent the ones still here from going that route. And if you do think about it, there's only so much he can do for them. They're not legally his, they're out of school, they're technically wards of the Ministry, and the Ministry is doing nothing for them. He's got no resources and no support… I really do believe he's doing all that he can."  
  
"But why not bring them here? We both know there's enough room. Hell, even he knows there's enough room. With some 'foolish wand waving' he could easily add another story to this house or increase the size of the rooms."  
  
"He doesn't have custody of them, Harry. He brought the others here because he was named legal guardian. He has no right to bring the others here."  
  
"Let's get him the right, then!"  
  
Hermione shook her head. "When the minors are over age twelve, he needs their consent, too, and he says they won't give it. And even if he did, it would be very difficult to get the Ministry to grant it."  
  
Harry ran his hands through his messy black hair. "Well, can't we just bring them here anyway? It's not like the Ministry cares about their whereabouts—what difference does it make if they're here or anywhere else?"  
  
"Because if the Ministry does find out, it could be considered kidnapping at worst, or, more likely, they could use it as a pretext to terminate his guardianship and return them back to the orphanage and Miss Glastonbury. It's a remote chance but he says he isn't willing to take the risk. He's already got guardianship of fifteen, and technically he's not allowed to do so for more than five at any one time. Kingsley worked that out as a favour to him but went to great lengths to say that this was the most he could do without drawing attention from the wrong corners of the Ministry."  
  
Harry threw up his arms in frustration. "Well there has to be something we can do! Hermione, last night I held a dying sixteen year old in my arms. The amount of pills he had ingested was unimaginable. A fully-grown man could not have tolerated that much. I could never have tolerated that much at my worst point. I overheard the doctors talking—he had taken much more than just the pills he told Severus about. And the boy is sixteen! What future does he have between passing out in the street and ending up in hospital and probably being arrested by both Muggle and Wizard authorities? Can you imagine what might happen if he tried using magic while in that state? If he had been able to use his wand while drugged out and in the presence of Muggle doctors and completely inebriated?"  
  
Hermione nodded. "It's a tricky situation, isn't it?"  
  
Harry paced back and forth. "This bloody Ministry," he said through clenched teeth. "It isn't enough that they are responsible for just as many war crimes as the Death Eaters, they have to keep punishing their offspring and preventing someone like Severus from giving them proper help. And you know what, I doubt these problems are just limited to them. How many people lost their homes, their livelihood, their wands, their magic in the war? How many families were torn apart by the Ministry? Sure, they all blame it on Voldemort taking it over, but there are so many still working there who had a hand in it."  
  
"It upsets me every day, Harry, and it's one reason why I walked out." She sighed "To think I once had such grand plans for changing the Wizarding World through the Ministry. When I look back at my life I sometimes shudder at how naïve I was."  
  
"You weren't naïve, you had conviction," Harry said, half-teasing. That had always been her euphemism of choice. "But I know what you mean—I think we both thought we could change the world from the ground up."  
  
"So much for youthful idealism," Hermione said. "Huh, I'm starting to sound more and more like Severus every day."  
  
"I hope not, that would mean you've stopped caring, too."  
  
"Harry Potter," Hermione said, standing up with blazing eyes. "Do not stand here and accuse him of not caring. He has not stopped caring, never has and never will. If he had stopped caring he would have walked out of that orphanage a long time ago. He would not have had himself declared legal guardian to fifteen children. He would not have accepted your offer of the house or the help of the students he probably liked least of all. He would not spend so many evenings out seeing them and then getting only a couple hours of sleep at a time so he can help the ones here deal with their night terrors."  
  
"Alright, alright, I'm sorry, that was uncalled for." Harry ran his hand through his hair, making it even messier than it was before. "You're right, he didn't have to do this."  
  
"He didn't," Hermione said. "But I think he thought he did. I just…I don't think you realise just how damaged his is by the war, too. Leopold Clairemont owled me the other day. He was eating his first chocolate frog and you know what card he got? Severus. He had no idea this man was a hero, and he asked me to confirm it. He also asked me what Severus was hiding from, since no hero would have stepped into that dungeon to care for them. This from an eleven year old boy!"  
  
"I thought you said it wasn't out of obligation, that he did care, that he even admitted that he cared."  
  
"He did, but I know him so much better now, Harry. He's running from the Wizarding World. I think he fears its judgment and condemnation. That's why he fell into obscurity as soon as he awoke from that coma. That's why he took a job that literally no one else would. That's why he's the only person who would go within ten feet of these children without trying to harm them—he needs them as much as they need him. He needs to feel like he's doing something good with his life, something pure. I think when he sees his graduates it's a slap in the face to him that he failed, and it makes him want to save the ones in this house even more. And I think it wears him down and makes him believe that there's truly nothing he can do, because the more he tries to help them, the less things seem to change. Whether he spends every night visiting them or none, their fate remains largely unchanged. Would you have much hope after that? "  
  
The friends looked at one another, feeling as defeated as they suspected Severus did.  
  
Finally Harry spoke. "Hermione you mentioned that the graduates were all wards of the Ministry, correct?"  
  
Hermione nodded. "They're all still underage, so yes, though a few are near the age of majority."  
  
"I know we gave up changing the Ministry from within, but are we the Golden Trio or not? We still have a great deal of influence with Kingsley, we should bring this to his attention."  
  
"He already knows and has done nothing about it."  
  
"But maybe if we paint it as a larger problem with the Wizarding World, as something that could be done for both the graduates, the children currently here who are most likely headed down that road, and as well as other war orphans or people whose lives were destroyed by the war, maybe he'll listen then. We just have to come up with the right strategy."  
  
"I wouldn't get your hopes up, Harry," Hermione said gently. "Yes, it's more likely to work if we lend our names to it, but do you honestly trust the Ministry to do something decent? Even if they agree, do you really believe that they will give it anything more than a half-arsed attempt? I honestly don't trust them to do it. And then we're left with our credibility damaged and unwanted publicity on these kids, because I do not trust it not to get out."  
  
Harry sighed. "Well maybe we get the Ministry to sponsor it, but they let us run it as an extension of what we do here."  
  
"How do you mean?"  
  
"A foundation, Hermione," Harry said. "I'm talking about you and I establishing a foundation that goes beyond what we do here. This is only the beginning. We can help the graduates, we can help the children here, we can help of-age wizards who are fighting addiction or joblessness or whatever else as a result of the war."  
  
"You're talking about, what, a real social services program?"  
  
"Exactly, something that goes beyond what we do here and makes a difference. We'd need Ministry backing, but we'd run it, because I frankly don't trust them to do it right or to do it at all. I think we can do it. We just need to hash out the details."  
  
"Harry this is going to require more than just a few details—this is a monstrous undertaking, I can't even think of where to begin."  
  
"We'll come up with something," Harry said. "We always do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why, but the idea of Severus being on the Chocolate Frog Cards (and not being happy about it) really tickled me.
> 
> Chapter title is French for "as a friend" and a homophone for "enemy" and is taken from the title of a late-run X-Files episode in which Scully and the Smoking Man go on a road trip, which I realize sounds like a piece of terrible fanfic but was actually a decent episode.
> 
> Also - I now have a tumblr! Come find me on Amarti-Writes-Stuff. 
> 
> Finally, I don't know why but AO3 keeps deleting the total chapter count. It is 30 chapters total, complete, already posted on FFN and Ashwinder.
> 
> Coming Up: Harry brings his idea to Severus, Severus confronts Hermione about her past, and the search for a Healer continues.


	15. What I Might Be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I can live with my decision. But can you live with yours?"

"I know that foolhardy delusions of saving the world are an unfortunate Gryffindor affliction that cannot be helped, but are the two of you out of your bloody minds?"  
  
They were seated in the attic at Grimmauld Place in three chairs arranged in a circle. Hermione raised an eyebrow to Harry as if to say, "I told you so," but Harry continued to speak anyway.  
  
"Probably, but even you have to admit it's not a bad idea. If you had the resources, the facilities, and the manpower, you could be doing even more. Just look at how much progress you've made with a staff of only four, one of whom is part time."  
  
"They are not remotely healed," Severus snapped. "All of them still have a long, hard road ahead."  
  
"But they've come so far—even you've said so!" Harry replied. "And you know that you want to help your graduates, so let's go to Kingsley and get some sponsorship, if you will, in order to help them."  
  
"I will not let the Ministry within a hundred feet of any child in my care now or who was in my care in the past!" Severus said menacingly. "You saw what they did to them. I will not expose them to that again. It is bad enough I let it go on as long as I did."  
  
"And as I said, they would not be running this—we would," Harry said authoritatively. "I'm talking about a foundation sponsored by the Ministry but run by us."  
  
"If you think that the Ministry will sponsor something yet completely relinquish control of the management, you have much to learn, Harry," Severus said.  
  
"They might if three of the most revered heroes from the war come to them with the proposal," Harry replied.  
  
"Arrogance notwithstanding, not even the famous Boy Who Lived can get a literal or figurative carte blanche from the Ministry," Severus replied.  
  
"Not by myself, but if I also bring along Hermione Granger and Severus Snape, with me to Kingsley Shacklebolt, I think I stand a decent chance," Harry retorted.  
  
"If you think I am going anywhere near the Ministry and groveling to them for their sponsorship, you can think again, Potter!"  
  
"If I may!" Hermione interjected, hoping to stop this before it raged out of control. "It wouldn't be groveling, Severus. Kingsley has said many times that he and the Ministry and the Wizarding World owe us a debt that can never be repaid—we can see if he'd be willing to do that. With all the corruption swirling about in that organization, even he would have to concede that the amount we're talking about is pocket change compared to what gets passed around on even a monthly basis. Kingsley respects you, Severus, he says so all the time. For all we know he may jump at the chance to help you, whatever it is you ask for."  
  
"You seem to think my credit with the Minister is greater than it actually is," Severus said.  
  
"You don't have to believe me, Severus, but it's a fact," Hermione said.  
  
"You don't know the first thing about me!"  
  
Hermione recoiled as if she had been slapped. When she spoke, her voice was small. "Don't I?"  
  
Harry immediately jumped up out of his seat. "Right, this is a lot to think about, and Ginny's having a rough week pregnancy-wise so I'll just be off then."  
  
"Right," Hermione said absently. "I'll walk you out."  
  
"No need, I know the way." He left the room and slammed the door before anyone could respond.  
  
Severus and Hermione remained in the office, sitting in chairs, staring at each other. Hermione's face was blank and Severus's set in a scowl, though not the deep kind that signified that he was angry. Rather, it was the kind that indicated he was confused about something.  
  
Hermione thought it was curious that there were so many meanings to discover in a single expression, if one only took the time to look.  
  
Neither wanted to be the first to speak. Hermione wasn't sure she wanted to speak with Severus at all right now. It seemed that things were as she had feared: she had opened her heart to another and learned that it was not reciprocated. She could have lived with that had they just kept things physical the way they had before—a rendezvous whenever they wanted, some pillow talk, and then back to normal.  
  
Deciding that she didn't want to hear it spelled out, she got to her feet and went to the door.  
  
"Hermione…" she heard him say. She turned around to see Severus no longer scowling, but rather looking at her rather, well, pleadingly.  
  
Hermione attempted to swallow the lump in her throat before she responded. "Please don't say it out loud, Severus," she said, holding up a hand, not meeting his eyes. "I understand."  
  
"Hermione," he said again, his voice thick. "Please, come sit with me." She shook her head and faced the door, willing herself not to show emotion.  _You did this through a war, you can do it now._  
  
She heard footsteps and a familiar warmth as Severus approached her and took her hands in his. "Please, Hermione." When she shook her head again, still averted her eyes, he wrapped his arms around her and brought his mouth to her ear. "I… misspoke earlier, out of anger and… fear." He kissed her temple and squeezed her. "You understand me better than anyone ever has, Hermione. Better than my mother, better than Lily Potter, better than Albus Dumbledore. You, Hermione."  
  
She didn't respond but he could feel her body shake ever so slightly. "I meant it when I said I wanted a real relationship with you," he continued. "I realise that entails opening myself up emotionally. You must understand, though, that I am not used to this. I have spent my life pushing my emotions down until I couldn't feel them anymore, and I have been doing so for so long that it's hard for me to understand an emotion when I do feel it. I can't put a name on anything I feel. It's frightening to me that you not only cause me to feel these things, you articulate them. After decades of avoiding that, it's jarring."  
  
He brought his lips to her forehead and planted a soft kiss, lingering there for some time. "I'm trying to let you in, Hermione. Be patient with me, please. I'm not shutting you out on purpose, and I do not intend to. I am not a man who breaks his promises."  
  
"I know," she said faintly in a wobbly voice. "I just… I hate to see you running away from things. Harry told me once… he told me that you were the bravest man he'd ever met. I agreed with him wholeheartedly. But I see you running away from the world, from the gratitude and adulation that is owed to you." She pulled away a bit and looked into his eyes. "Leopold sent me an owl, saying that he got a chocolate frog card with you on it, and that you keep running out of the frame every time you catch him looking at you."  
  
"I did not agree to be on that rubbish," Severus said flatly. "I was explicit about that."  
  
"But you know what else he wrote to me? He asked why you were working with him and his siblings and everyone else here, rather than living the life of a war hero? He asked if you were running away from something."  
  
"Gryffindor is ruining that boy's subtlety," Severus muttered.  
  
"I think he has a point though. I don't doubt that you're in the right place, Severus, because these children do need you. But I agree with him that it seems like you're running. You tried to run from me and Harry when we approached you, you haven't been back to Hogwarts once since you woke up, you've shunned the media, you never spoke to Kingsley until you sought the legal guardianship… Severus, you are running away and hiding yourself."  
  
"So are you," he said pointedly. He was not speaking defensively or with malice. He was seeking to open her up the same way she opened him up. "You bury your feelings too, Hermione. You run from things, too."  
  
"What am I running from?" she asked mutely, not sure she wanted to know the answer.  
  
"You want love yet fear it because you are still suffering the pain of war and loss, and even the softest touch is painful on an open wound. You throw yourself into helping others because you want to bury your pain. And…" he hesitated, "… and you refuse to reverse the charm on your parents because you fear their condemnation for your actions."  
  
She pulled back from him abruptly. "You don't know what you're talking about," she said, her voice dripping with warning.  
  
"I know that Harry Potter knows you better than you know yourself," Severus said, "and that he knows you well enough to know that you would not have permanently Obliviated your parents. He knows you well enough to know that you would have either used another charm or invented one yourself that would be lasting yet allow you to undo it at some point in the future. He knows you well enough to know that you spent most of your holidays either at Hogwarts or with him and Weasley because spending time at home was too difficult. Even I suspected it during your school days. I was a teacher for many years, Hermione, and students who repeatedly spend their holidays at Hogwarts or with other students are typically the ones who have problems at home."  
  
Hermione said nothing but pressed her face into Severus's chest, shuddering. The sobs overcame her before she could stop them. Tears that she had denied for years began to fall. "They're happier where they are now," she whispered.  
  
"How could they be, when they live unaware of their daughter, this magnificent, brilliant, insufferable woman I hold in my arms?"  
  
She shook her head against his chest. "They—they were so supp-supportive of me being a witch, but they—they never could understand it," she sobbed. "T-too much distance. My new w-world and the one I gr-grew up in were too far apart. S-soon w-we had n-nothing to t-t-talk about. They c-can't m-miss what they d-don't know exists."  
  
Severus just held her tight. One of the tricks of being a successful spy was knowing when to speak but, more importantly, when not to speak, and every instinct in his body screamed at him to remain silent now. He listened to it; it had never failed him before.  
  
"A-and ev-even if I w-wanted to bring them back, I c-couldn't," she wailed. "I was afraid that if they w-were ever f-found someone m-might detect a m-memory charm s-so I made it untraceable. Not even I c-could find it to undo it."  
  
Severus let her cry a little longer before speaking. "I could find it," he whispered. "With the Dark Lord and Albus… gone… I am the most powerful Legillimens left in Britain." He sighed and squeezed her tighter. "Occlumency was my speciality, and as a result I am rather skilled at detecting the shields and charms in the minds of others, even those that are meant to remain hidden. If you wished it…"  
  
Hermione shook her head vigorously against his chest. "No, not after all this time. They have a life now, down there. I can't take that away from them."  
  
Severus nodded and kissed her head. "Regardless, Hermione, should you ever wish it… all you need to do is ask."  
  
"Let me," she said, pulling her head up from his chest to meet his eye. "You offer to help me yet you will not accept my offer to help you."  
  
"Your situation is rather more amenable to help than mine," he said bleakly.  
  
"No it isn't. Helping me would destroy two lives. Helping you would improve the lives of many homeless, helpless children."  
  
Severus snorted derisively. "You certainly have a way of spinning it."  
  
"It's the truth," she said. "I can live with my decision. But can you live with yours?"  
  
Silence gripped them tightly.  
  
"I will… go to the Ministry with you and Harry," he whispered, "if you will agree to at least consider letting me reverse the charms on your parents." She opened her mouth as if to speak but he continued before she had the chance.  
  
"I know what it is to have a difficult relationship with one's parents, Hermione. I hated my father; I feel no loss for him. With regard to my mother… the pain is still there. She was a weak-willed woman and my father was an abusive bastard. There was no great love in our home. I was neither wanted nor cared for.  
  
"But having said all of that, the thought of them never knowing of me would be… more difficult. Having a difficult relationship with one's parents is, I think, better than none at all." He rubbed her back with his left hand. "I no longer have the option of speaking with them ever again. You do. Please tell me you will consider it."  
  
She sniffed. "And you'll come to the Ministry with us if I do?" Severus nodded. "Alright, I'll… I'll consider it."  
  
That earned her a squeeze. "My Hermione," he whispered. "Please don't ever doubt my feelings for you. I know I can be, as you so succinctly put it, an acerbic bastard. I can also be very defensive—it's probably my standard reaction whenever someone pushes me beyond my comfort zone, and you are an insightful enough person to understand that. A few months with you is not enough to undo that completely. I promise," he emphasised the word, "that I will attempt to not be defensive with you. But should I slip, I hope you will call me out on it, insult me, yell at me, or otherwise do whatever you feel I deserve for being so unkind toward you. But promise me that you will never, ever doubt my feelings for you or my commitment to you again."  
  
"Commitment?"  
  
Severus nodded. "I am committed to you, Hermione. I do not enter relationships often or lightly. When I do so, I do so completely. I have committed to you as long as you will have me."  
  
She squeezed him tightly and tilted her head up to kiss him on the lips. He could taste her tears.  
  
"Promise me?" he whispered against her lips.  
  
"I promise."  
  
\-----------  
  
Harry sat by the fire with his son in his arms. Ginny was already asleep upstairs; pregnancy gave her fatigue like she had never known. The baby was alert, his brown eyes searching his father's green eyes. His hair was black as Harry's, but his eyes were all Ginny's.  
  
"You have your mother's eyes…" Harry said softly, echoing the words another man had once said to him.  
  
"Your mother is an extraordinary lady, James," Harry said. "Your grandmother was, too, but sadly you'll never meet her, and I don't remember her. She looks like your mother, though. Probably something a therapist could sort out for me, don't you think?"  
  
James said nothing but continued to stare at his father.  
  
"Have I ever told you how I proposed your mum? I won't bother telling you how we met or how we fell in love; your history books will no doubt cover that. But how I asked her to marry me? That's a secret, and one I'm going to let you in on, you lucky little boy."  
  
James' eyes widened as if in anticipation.  
  
"It was the morning after Voldemort fell. I hadn't been able to see your mother properly that day; she was mourning the loss of your uncle Fred and sitting with her family, feeling at peace for the first time in years. I was with my own family, Aunt Hermione. Uncle Ron left us to see his family and she and I just held each other and cried and cried and cried.  
  
"But the next morning, I got up from my room in Gryffindor tower, and I walked through the castle. It was almost completely destroyed; rubble everywhere; small fires burning; and the smell, James, the smell of it all…"  
  
He took a moment to compose himself before continuing.  
  
"I saw death and destruction all around me. The clean up had not yet begun, and it would take years to fully repair everything. Parts of the castle are still broken even today; parts of me are still broken. But as I walked around the grounds and through the castle, I wondered if there was ever such a thing as 'normal' after living through something like that. Would I ever be able to just sit in a café and have a coffee and read the paper like a normal human being? Would I forever be on alert for danger? The reality has proven to be somewhere in the middle, I suppose.  
  
"Anyway, as I walked around the charred grounds, the pools of blood, the piles of rubble, I saw her, Ginny, your Mummy, standing there. In the midst of so much destruction there was this ginger angel, dressed in white, looking so clean and pure and alive. I knew that if something could be so beautiful after such a long time of ugliness, we could continue. We could, we would, rebuild this world of ours. And it would be beautiful.  
  
"I walked up to her, put my arms around her, and just held her for the longest time. I took in her scent and felt her softness in my arms. She felt so soft! How could a creature be so battle-hardened and yet so soft to the touch? That's your mother for you: a woman full of contradictions that, taken together, inspire awe.  
  
"After a long time of just holding each other, I pressed a very soft kiss to her temple just like this," he kissed James on his left temple, "and said, 'Marry me.'" It wasn't a question, it wasn't a demand, it was more like a fact. And you know what she did, James? She nodded her head as if to say, 'Harry Potter, of course I'm going to marry you.' And then she opened her mouth and said, 'I've waited seven years for you to ask me that.'"  
  
"I'm a lucky man, James Sirius Potter. I have lost many people that I have loved; I would even go so far as to say that I have lost most of the people I have loved and who have loved me. It's not exactly a stable way to live. But when I saw your mother that day, I knew how much I loved her, and I wrapped my arms around her and I never, ever, let her go."  
  
He dipped his head down to inhale his son's soft, powdery scent. "I will never let you go either, James. You are something beautiful that she and I created together. You won't grow up knowing what I know."  
  
_When did I become such a sap?  
  
Probably the day I became a father._  
  
\-----------  
  
Leopold did not care much for History of Magic, but at least he did not have to have it with Professor Binns. He had heard many rumours about how boring Binns' lectures were, and even Miss Granger had warned him of it in an owl. Professor Lasky, however, was engaging and informed. And, well, a little opinionated. But Leopold didn't mind that.  
  
At least, not until today.  
  
They were covering the early days of the second war, and Leopold had done his best to brace himself for what was to come. Mr. Snape (or was it Professor Snape—Leopold had had no idea that he had been a the Hogwarts potions master for nearly two decades) had warned him that he would likely hear things about his parents from others in unkind terms. He had been warned that it would likely come from other students.  
  
He was not, however, prepared to hear it from a professor's lips.  
  
"The Death Eaters," Professor Lasky said in his commanding tone, "were the most foul, evil wizards to walk this earth. Their devotion to the Dark Lord was complete and obsessive. It twisted them into inhuman monsters capable of any sort of brutality. They hunted Muggles for sport, they tortured the families of Muggle-borns for fun."  
  
Leopold felt the blood drain from his head and he grasped the side of the desk for dear life, his knuckles turning white.  
  
"They turned their victims into something less than human, made them as inhuman as they themselves were in their hearts."  
  
_Breathe_ , he told himself,  _just breathe. He doesn't know that Mummy used to cradle you and kiss you and tell you that she loved you. He doesn't know that Daddy answered every question you asked of him, that Daddy always had the answers. He doesn't know. He cannot know.  
  
No one can know._  
  
Feeling oppressed by the weight of his secret, such a heavy weight on the shoulders of such a little boy, Leopold Clairemont began to hyperventilate. Not here, not here, not here…  
  
He heard a sob and tried to convince himself that it did not come from his mouth.  
  
Suddenly a large hand was on his head and a voice that had sounded commanding just a moment before was now soothing. "There, there, son. I know this is a difficult subject for you, given what you've lost. I think you may be excused for the rest of the day. Miss Phillips, will you kindly see that Mr. Clairemont gets back to Gryffindor Tower?"  
  
Leopold heard nothing, and his eyes were screwed shut, but he soon felt a small, soft hand in his leading him out of the room. They were in the corridor before he was aware of his surroundings. He looked into the bright blue eyes of Clara, who looked like she was about to cry herself.  
  
"Here," she said, guiding him to a bench in the corridor. She let go of his hand and wrapped her arms around him. Leopold, his shame all but gone, tucked his head into her shoulder and began to cry. She said nothing, just held him as he cried. For the life of him Leopold could not remember anyone holding him as he cried, at least not since he lost his parents. No Slytherin would do this. Much as Gryffindor had its faults, Leopold felt, for the first time, that he had been placed exactly where he belonged.  
  
\---------  
  
"She's having a rough go of it, Severus," Lovegood said sadly. "She lost her parents when she was three so she has virtually no memory of them, she hasn't heard from her sister in over three years, and now her brother is gone too."  
  
Severus rubbed his eyes. As much as Margaret Macnair's panic attacks had decreased, Ermengarde Rosier's had returned, and her nightmares too. He was loathe to put her back on the sleeping potion, but he was beginning to fear that he would have no choice if she was ever going to sleep through the night (or let him sleep through the night, for that matter—the girl's screams pierced all floors of the house). With him, Hermione, and Lovegood all living in the house, he had long since stopped casting his Patronus to alert him of danger, and so the screams of the children always woke him first.  
  
"He owls her weekly," Severus sighed. "And Longbottom says the boy seems to be doing well."  
  
"As far as he can tell, but really, Severus, how much of our goings on were you ever actually aware of at the time?"  
  
Lovegood did have a point there. She always did. In many ways Lovegood was a worse know-it-all than Hermione. And that was saying something.  
  
"What do you suggest, then, Lovegood?"  
  
"Is there any chance at all that Minerva will let the boy out on weekends so he can visit her?"  
  
Severus shook his head. "None. Security was tightened up significantly after the war; only fifth years and above are allowed on Hogsmeade weekends now, and there are only two per year. Mr. Clairemont is a first year and technically without a family; she'll never allow it."  
  
Lovegood sighed. "What have you done in the past when this sort of thing occurred?"  
  
He raised an eyebrow. "I don't believe that will be helpful to know." Lovegood seemed to understand that he had previously done nothing. He hadn't been able to do more. He had been too busy.  
  
"Well, the Christmas hols will be in a few weeks, and he'll be coming back, correct?" Lovegood asked. Severus nodded. "Maybe if she can go back on the potion for a few more weeks, once she sees that her brother is back and in one piece she will handle it better."  
  
"Lovegood, the potion…"  
  
"Is what the girl needs," Lovegood said firmly. "She needs sleep, desperately. It's the cycle again: she gets very little sleep, then she is anxious during the day, which leads to less sleep.  
  
Severus sighed. "Desperate times?" Lovegood nodded. "Very well."  
  
"Any luck with a Healer?"  
  
Severus shook his head. "You'd think I was asking them to come her and commit atrocities, which I suspect they consider tending to the needs of the children of Death Eaters to be."  
  
"Hmm," Lovegood said absently.  
  
Severus quirked an eyebrow. "What?"  
  
"It's just curious to me… why should they have any idea who they are? Why should they know their parentage?"  
  
"They need to access their medical histories, which unfortunately are tied to their real names," Severus said. "It's all magically indexed so I can't change it. Healers see the surname and refuse to come."  
  
"That doesn't seem like it should be allowed, should it?" Lovegood said matter-of-factly. "Are you not going to see Kingsley soon? Perhaps it would be worth a mention."  
  
"I can mention it until I'm blue in the face. I doubt it'll change anything."  
  
"Perhaps not, but you have nothing to lose by trying," Lovegood said. "What about Madam Pomfrey?"  
  
Severus fought to keep his face expressionless. "What about her?"  
  
"Well, couldn't she come here and see to them? They'll all be in her charge eventually."  
  
"Poppy… owes me no favours."  
  
"It was she who found you in the Boat House," Lovegood said. It was not a question.  
  
"She may have cleaned some wounds, but I was already out of danger."  
  
"You didn't want her to help you," Lovegood said, reading his face as if it were a book telling her exactly what happened that night. As far as Severus could tell, she was not practicing Legillimency. "You expected to die, but when you decided to live, you wanted no one's help. So you saved yourself by inducing the coma. But that's not all, is it? You remember all the times the Carrows sent us to the hospital wing."  
  
Severus could barely meet her eyes. "It's alright, you know," she said brightly as if talking about her plans for the weekend. "It wasn't you who was meting out the punishment, was it? And you gave us lighter punishments whenever you could. And after it was all over, we understood."  
  
"Did you?" How could they?  
  
"Harry and I went to see Dumbledore's portrait once," she said. "And he told us how if you had been the one to kill Dumbledore, the Dark Lord would trust you above all others and probably give you run of Hogwarts. We speculated as to who the alternative would be. Bellatrix Lestrange, maybe? Or Yaxley? Selwyn? Macnair? Lucius Malfoy? Dolores Umbridge?" She rattled off the names without disgust; it pleased Severus to see that she was no longer associating the parents with the children. "Any of them would have killed me and Neville and Ginny for what we were doing; you basically turned a blind eye. Has no one ever thanked you for that?" Her voice was awfully light for such a heavy subject.  
  
Severus did not respond.  
  
"Well, they should have. May I thank you on behalf of Dumbledore's Army?" She extended her hand to him. Severus hesitated, and took it, shaking it ever so briefly. "Thank you for protecting us, even if you never wanted us to know."  
  
Severus gave a brief nod in acknowledgement. "It was my duty, Miss Lovegood."  
  
"I think Madam Pomfrey understands it, Severus; she's a clever witch, after all. Perhaps she wouldn't be so averse to coming here. She treated the Slytherins as well as the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. I don't think she'll harbour any prejudice against them."  
  
If any member of Hogwarts staff, other than Longbottom, was going to be open-minded about the children, it was probably Poppy.  
  
"I'll ask Neville to talk to her, shall I?" Severus nodded. He still wasn't used to the way conversations with Luna Lovegood spun out of his control and yet laid bare everything that needed to be discussed.  
  
She got to her feet. "One more thing, Severus. I know you were involved in my being taken off the Hogwarts Express and kept in Malfoy Manor. I just want to say… well, thank you. I probably would have been killed otherwise, wouldn't I?"  
  
Severus felt no need to enlighten Lovegood as to what would have happened to her had he not arranged for her capture. The Dark Lord had been very displeased with him; he had wanted the Lovegoods slaughtered for her father's pro-Potter propaganda. Severus had barely been able to pull his wretched body back up to the castle after his meeting with the Dark Lord, and Poppy had not offered to help him. He'd collapsed in the snow just outside the Entrance Hall and remained there all night.  
  
\------  
  
"Hermoine?"  
  
"Hmm?" came the sleepy reply. "Not tonight, Severus."  
  
He rolled his eyes. "No, not that." But maybe in the morning.  
  
"Then what?"  
  
"Is Luna Lovegood a Legilimens?"  
  
Hermione gave a very unladylike snort. "Call yourself the most powerful Legilimens in Britain, do you? Shouldn't you be able to tell?"  
  
He made a sound of exasperation. "Is she or isn't she?" It was unlikely that Lovegood was a Legilimens, since neither the Dark Lord nor Dumbledore had been able to penetrate Severus's Occlumency shields, but still... it was unnerving the way she seemed to see through them anyway.  
  
"No, I don't think so. Why, is she doing it again?"  
  
"… In a way."  
  
"Do you want to talk about it?  
  
Severus shook his head. Hermione knew better than to push. He would talk to her if he wanted to. If he didn't, he wouldn't, and there was no use in pushing him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Five points to anyone where can tell me where Professor Lasky is from.
> 
> Title comes from a quote by Laozi: "When I let go of what I am, I become what I might be."
> 
> Come yell at me on Tumblr: amarti-writes-stuff
> 
> Coming up: Our heroes take a field trip to the Ministry, where we get a crash course in post-war politics.


	16. The Lobbyists

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If Kingsley thought he could act like a politician around them and not be called out on it, he had been sorely mistaken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The political views expressed herein are solely those of the characters and do not necessarily represent those of the author. If you disagree with them, don't yell at me.

"Poppy?" Neville called as he entered the hospital wing. Poppy Pomfrey was busy trying to re-grow the heads of three Hufflepuff third years; they had been hit by a curse that shrank their heads to the size of billiard balls. Their cries sounded like mice.  
  
"What can I do for you, M-Professor Longbottom?" Poppy was always brisk and preferred the use of each other's titles in the presence of students, rather than first names. Neville disliked it; it reminded him too much of his school days, and being one of the youngest professors on staff was already enough of a reminder that his colleagues had been his teachers.  
  
"I'll wait in your office, shall I, I have something to discuss with you."  
  
"But of course," she said. Neville walked to her office as Poppy attempted to re-size their heads.  
  
After some high-pitched squeaks, screeches, and sobs, she sat behind her desk and looked at Neville expectantly. "What can I do for you, Neville?"  
  
Visibly relaxing at the use of his name, he began to speak. "Poppy, if I were to propose something to you, you would keep it in the utmost discretion?"  
  
The mediwitch nodded.  
  
"What would you say to a spot of moonlighting?"  
  
\------------  
  
"Harry!" Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt's deep voice rang out in greeting. He walked briskly to Harry and enveloped him in a friendly hug. "And Hermione—lovely to see you too," he said, turning to her to give her a hug as well. When he released her, he paused as he took in the third figure standing in his office.  
  
"Severus," Kingsley said. He walked slowly to the tall wizard and offered him his hand. Severus hesitated but eventually accepted it. "It's very good to see you," Kingsley said honestly. "Please, everyone, have a seat." Hermione and Harry took the two chairs directly before Kingsley's desk whilst Severus seated himself on one in the back of the room.  
  
"I must say I was surprised to hear that all three of you wanted to see me. An unlikely alliance, is it not?" He gave them all a thoughtful look in a way that reminded Severus uncomfortably of Albus Dumbledore. "Perhaps not so unlikely."  
  
"Kingsley," Hermione began (all of them had agreed that she should be the mouthpiece), "We wanted to talk to you about what the Ministry is doing for wizards and witches who have been left homeless and jobless since the war, and have some proposals for you as well."  
  
Kingsley sighed in the manner of all politicians when hearing the plight of their constituents. "It is a terrible problem that I have been attempting to address."  
  
Hermione cocked an eyebrow in a way that reminded Harry far too much of Severus. "In six years the Ministry has not introduced a single program or administration to address this problem, and the number of people who need it grow by the day."  
  
If Kingsley thought he could act like a politician around them and not be called out on it, he had been sorely mistaken.  
  
"People out there are unable to get jobs or loans to start their own businesses as a result of their actions in the war. They end up on the streets and turn to drugs and prostitution and crime," Hermione's nostrils began to flare as her volume increased. "This includes everyone from the children of Death Eaters to those acquitted of war crimes to those whose right to carry wands was revoked by the Muggle-Born Registration Commission."  
  
"Everyone whose wands were destroyed under the Dark Lord's regime had their convictions overturned and their right to carry wands restored," Kingsley said defensively.  
  
"That's not really true, Kingsley," Harry said, jumping in. "Dolores Umbridge ordered their magic destroyed in addition to their wands; many have still not recovered yet they do not wish to return to the Muggle world."  
  
"And not only that—no one accepts them as Magical, either!" Hermione protested. "They may not have liked Umbridge or the Ministry at that time, but to be honest the _Prophet_ never accurately detailed what happened and many of the trials were closed and the records sealed, if there even were trials, so people never got their vindication!"  
  
They had decided before the meeting to focus on the other Wizarding populations who needed assistance after the war, rather than their own interests.  
  
"And then there are the people who lost everything in the war—people who lost their homes and their property and their livelihoods," Harry continued. "They need assistance too. The Ministry is still sorting out who owns what to this day, and in the meantime there are many people still trapped in limbo, unable to settle or hold a steady job for fear that they will have to leave it once they get the ones they rightfully own returned."  
  
"Alright you two," Kingsley said, holding up his hands to stop them. "I am well aware of the shortcomings of this administration. I agree, progress has been slow. You know as well as I do that there are still powerful people in this building who have been able to successfully block or slow legislation and programs to help these populations."  
  
"But you're Minister for Magic—permanent Minister for Magic," Harry said. "What should it matter to you if you do something unpopular, so long as it is right? Why not sack the people who are causing problems?"  
  
"Harry, that would be an abuse of my station. My 'predecessor' in this office did that and I will not have the Wizarding World believe they live under another tyrant. It's bad enough that appointment of the Minister comes from the Oligarchy, rather than through free and open democratic elections.  
  
"If they believe they are under the thumb of another megalomaniac and throw me out, they would play right into the hands of the many Voldemort supporters who are still in this building and still hold considerable influence and power. I do not like that I have to allow much of the corruption to continue, but to attempt stamp it out would be far more dangerous. That's part of why they do it—they are baiting me! They are waiting for me to purge the Ministry so that they can demonstrate that I am not to be trusted with power, that change is in order, that I would be another Tom Riddle or Cornelius Fudge."  
  
"Kingsley, who could ever say that about you?" Hermione protested.  
  
"Many people, Hermione, many people," Kingsley said gravely. "I had hoped it would be easier, but I am telling you, there are many out there who would wish to see another person in power in the Ministry and who would be far less benevolent. Sometimes it is better to have an imperfect system run by someone on the side of the Light than to risk it being turned over to the side of the Dark.  
  
"Severus knows what I'm talking about, don't you?"  
  
All eyes turned to Severus, who merely inclined his head ever so slightly.  
  
"Think about how Hogwarts was run under Severus—it was purged of Muggle-borns, employed Death Eaters, and employed torture." Severus flinched at all of this, but Kingsley continued. "Would you have had the alternative?"  
  
"Kingsley," Hermione said warningly, "I don't think the two are really applicable. If Severus hadn't done what he'd done, it was an absolute certainty that a loyal Death Eater would have been given control of the school, or one of the teachers Imperiused to carry out the Dark Lord's orders. You cannot possibly say that there is the same sort of certainty here."  
  
"But I do, Hermione, and I am very certain of that. You know that I am not a man who exaggerates and that I am not a politician by trade. I truly wish I were exaggerating this."  
  
Harry and Hermione sighed in unison. If the mood were not so grim, they might have laughed at themselves.  
  
"There is still something you could do, Kingsley," Severus said, causing everyone to turn toward him. Hermione raised her eyebrows in surprise; Severus had come here only reluctantly and said he did not wish to ask the Ministry for anything himself. Had he come up with a way out?  
  
"There is something that might, as the Muggles say, kill two birds with one stone. There is no doubt that something must be done to help these populations, and no population is more needy of this than the children who were formerly in my care and who left Hogwarts prior to the conclusion of their seven years. There are hundreds of wizards and witches who are also in need, as Miss Granger and Mr. Potter have already stated.  
  
"The last two wars were, in effect, a fight between warring vigilante groups: the Death Eaters on one side, and the Order of the Phoenix on the other. The Ministry itself was a bit player in this conflict and the fact that it escalated as such shows that the Ministry was not, and may not still be, a functioning method of government. The Muggles have a term, 'failed state,' to describe a nation or people whose government lacks effective control over the territory and real power is concentrated in the hands of others, warlords or gangs or terrorist organisations or religious groups. I think it is fair to say, Minister, that Wizarding Britain is a failed state and has been one for some time."  
  
"Severus—"  
  
"Think on it, Kingsley, if the Ministry had had actual control over the population, would either Wizarding war have happened? That a madman could make such a grab for power that would cost thousands of lives over two decades? That is not something that happens in effectively managed states. It hasn't happened in any other Wizarding nation, and you and I both know there were opportunities for it to happen in those other states."  
  
"The Ministry was not a bit player in anything…"  
  
"Kingsley! As a member of the Order, you know that is not true. You joined the Order because you saw that the Ministry was turning a blind eye to a very real threat and that even if it were to engage, it did not have the resources to protect people on the scale required. The Auror Office was far too small to do anything of real note—you know that from your time there."  
  
Kingsley's lips pursed but he did not make to deny anything Severus said.  
  
"So if what you say is true and that there are those out there who would make a power grab at the first opportunity, and I do not disagree with you that this is a real threat, then you have to ensure that the Ministry will be able to protect itself and its people. The last thing we need is a third Wizarding war, which is what would likely result. Except there is no more Order of the Phoenix, since it was so decimated, and the population as a whole is still rebuilding from the last war so it would be less capacity for resistance. People are exhausted. They don't want to fight anymore.  
  
"The last war was fought and decided primarily in a school, for Merlin's sake! Children were the Light's foot soldiers, they are the ones who fought and died to stop the Dark Lord. That cannot be allowed to happen again.  
  
"What you need is a Wizarding army."  
  
Hermione and Harry gaped at Severus. When had he come up with this? They shared a look that told each other that neither had any idea.  
  
"What do you mean?" Kingsley asked.  
  
"I mean you need a loyal, trained force who would be on call in the event of a major crisis—a coup d'etat by another would-be Dark Lord, or a natural disaster, or an outbreak of a virulent disease, or an invasion by an outside force, you get the idea. People crave security, but they cannot count on another Albus Dumbledore coming to their rescue with his band of merry fighters like some dues ex machina.  
  
"I suppose 'army' is a bit of a misnomer; it would really be more like a militia. You would retain the loyalty of and train a large population to be called up in the event of an emergency, but you would have a core group of fighters at the ready for smaller things. You and I both know that not every loyal Death Eater was caught, nor have all dark wizards disappeared. You and I both know that more than just the Malfoys bankrolled the Dark Lord. A force would be good and allow the Auror Office to concentrate its efforts on cases more appropriate to their training. Aurors were meant to deal with criminal activity, not political intrigue or war."  
  
Kingsley was nodding slowly. "And I suppose this relates to the problems Harry and Hermione were speaking of?"  
  
"You have in them a ready-made population who could be hired by the Ministry to be the militia. You could do whatever necessary to ascertain their loyalty—wand oaths or other magically-sealed promises, like unbreakable vows or binding magical contracts. This would, of course, not resolve the problem for everyone, but would be an opportunity for some. You would have improved security, which would stabilise the Ministry and, by extension, you. And you would also be taking future criminals, drug addicts, and prostitutes off the streets, thereby also creating a bit of a social services program."  
  
"I'm not sure an army is allowed under Wizarding Law," KIngsley mused. "I would have to take it to the Wizengamot to decide, and there are those who would see the build-up of an army as no different than the Dark Lord building up an army."  
  
"There are some fools who would, but anyone with a brain would see it for what it is. For many years the complaints I heard of the Ministry was that it was at once too weak and too heavy-handed. It was too weak when it came to security and too heavy-handed when it came to civil liberties. One need not be sacrificed for the other. If you were to build up security, you could have better leverage to free up civil liberties since there would be less of a justification for clamping down on them. How many people were sentenced to Azkaban without due process? How many of those who did have a trial were represented by counsel? How many homes have been searched without a warrant? How many contents of wills have been seized? All of these things have been done in the name of security, and you know as well as I do that there is no such security purpose served."  
  
"You assume, Severus, that the mere presence of such a force would create stability. Is military power really the mark of a strong and secure state? I have studied Muggle history as well as you have; you know very well that a strong military often belies a weak state. If the Ministry were to do this, create an army whilst in peacetime, it would look like Wizarding Britain was once again falling into totalitarian hands. It would appear heavy-handed and would not make anyone on the Wizengamot more or less disposed to change laws that curtail civil liberties."  
  
"Kingsley, you sound like you're afraid to take any steps to make any changes," Hermione said softly, the disappointment evident in her tone.  
  
"Change does not happen overnight," Kingsley said sadly.  
  
"Yes, that's what I read in your pamphlets," Hermione retorted.  
  
"I am one man," Kingsley said. "Even if I agreed with everything you say, I cannot force a change overnight that needs to happen gradually. The progress and stability that we do have is very fragile. It could fall apart tomorrow. I am sorry, but I cannot help you at this time. Perhaps in a few years' time, when more progress has been made and hopefully the world is more stable. But today… I'm very sorry."  
  
Kingsley did look regretful.  
  
"I understand, Kingsley," Harry said. He offered him his hand. "I appreciate you taking the time to listen to what we had to say. I know you understand our concerns, and I know that when you can, you will help."  
  
Hermione and Severus weren't sure they believed that, but they sorely wanted to.  
  
"I am glad to see you all," Kingsley said. "You all made very good points, and I will not forget this conversation. When I can, I will."  
  
\-------  
  
"That was disheartening," Hermione said, setting herself on a settee in the sitting room. Severus sat next to her and took her hand, rubbing it gently. For Severus, this was a very public display of affection, and it almost pained him to do it. Harry tried his best to hide his smile when he saw it. "So much for the so-called 'future of Wizarding Britain.' I never thought I'd see Kingsley Shacklebolt so resigned."  
  
"I expected the Ministry would not be our best avenue to pursue," Severus said. It wasn't quite an _I-told-you-so_ , but it was close enough.  
  
"Well we had to try," Hermione said. "At least we can say that we tried."  
  
"Any other Minister would have hexed us into the next millennium if we stormed into his office, criticised all of his accomplishments, and demanded broad social change," Harry mused. "Really, that was pretty bold of us, wasn't it? Kingsley has more patience than I think any of us ever gave him credit for."  
  
"The more things change, the more they change the same, Harry," Severus said softly. "It is the nature of every Minister to promise sweeping changes, only to revert back to the way things have always been done."  
  
"I thought he was trying to overcorrect for Fudge and Scrimgeour and Thicknesse," Hermione said. "The pendulum, if you will, is swinging too far in this direction to compensate for the fact that it once swung too far in the other direction. The Ministry we grew up with was very heavy-handed and concerned with self-preservation and there was more intrigue than in Caesar's court," Harry and Severus thankfully had the Muggle background necessary to understand this reference, "so I can understand Kingsley not wanting to appear to be more of the same. Small changes over time are more likely to stick and appear more democratic. Really, it's not a bad strategy to preserve stability."  
  
"Stability can be overrated," Severus said.  
  
"In any case," Hermione said, "this avenue is closed to us now. We'll have to figure out another way."  
  
Severus shook his head. "No, we are done. I agreed to take this to the Ministry, I did not agree to pursue it further from there."  
  
"But Severus—" Harry protested.  
  
"But nothing, Harry," Severus said in the same tone he used to silence a classroom. "It's over. It went exactly as I expected it would, so I am not disappointed. I will continue to do what I have always done. It is an imperfect solution but is far better than the alternative, which is nothing."  
  
He rose and stalked up the stairs without another word.  
  
Hermione shook her head. "Infuriating man."  
  
Harry nodded his agreement. "Yes, but he's your infuriating man now."  
  
"Unfortunately."  
  
Harry took Severus's vacated seat and put an arm around her shoulders. "There's always another way. I know he doesn't see one, but that doesn't mean he doesn't want to see one. I think he just is used to shouldering it and Kingsley's rejection only confirmed that he has to take this one alone."  
  
Hermione sighed. "I keep telling him that he's not alone in this anymore, and he keeps saying he understands."  
  
"But old habits are hard to break, aren't they?" Harry said. "Think about it—he was doing this all on his own for five years. We've been involved for, what, eight months? And then consider his previous life at Hogwarts, where he basically held the balance of a war in his hand, and if he didn't do everything exactly right, all hell would break loose. I think he understands he has support now, but it's ingrained in him to still go it alone."  
  
Hermione nodded. Who would have thought that Harry Potter of all people would one day be explaining the psyche of her romantic partner? For that matter, who would have ever thought that Severus Snape would be said romantic partner?  
  
\----------  
  
Hermione was awakened early the next morning by the sound of Severus quietly getting dressed in the light of the dying fire.  
  
"What are you doing up so early?" she asked sleepily.  
  
"I have to go to Azkaban," he said flatly.  
  
"Why, did something happen?"  
  
He shook his head. "I have a former charge there whom I try to visit at least once per month."  
  
Hermione frowned. She didn't remember him ever going to Azkaban since their relationship began, and that was going on three months now. As if he could hear her thoughts, he replied, "I typically go during the day when you were at work or teaching here. But I want to go early today so that I can free up my afternoon."  
  
Hermione nodded. "Can I come with you?"  
  
Severus had been doing up his shirt but paused in the midst of buttoning it up to look at her. He suspected she would want to come someday, but still was surprised that she would offer.  
  
 _I really shouldn't be_ , he thought. _She's wanted to go everywhere else._  
  
"Hermione… I don't know… have you ever been to Azkaban?"  
  
She shook her head.  
  
"It's not for the faint of heart," he warned. "It's very, very depressing. Dementors are still there and the prison is more crowded than it has ever been. The bodies of people who have been Kissed just… lie there, neither living nor dead. You can hear the screams and cries of other prisoners as they slowly lose their minds. I have no doubt Black related to you all what it was like to live in Azkaban; it is sadly largely unchanged from that time."  
  
"Well, when you describe it like that…" Hermione said, pulling back the bedclothes and walking to her side of the wardrobe and opening the door. The wardrobe they shared was a standard size, but once opened it revealed a large walk-in closet.  
  
"I'm not lying, Hermione, it's a difficult place to go."  
  
"All the more reason," she said determinedly. She debated for a moment whether to wear robes or Muggle clothing, and decided robes would probably be best to keep out the cold that the presence of Dementors invariably created. "They have to live in this environment. The least I can do is visit for an hour."  
  
She gave Severus a look that brooked no response, and with that, she received a nod of his head.  
  
"Hermione," he said after they'd dressed and walked out of Grimmauld Place into the cold, grey morning, "you really don't have to do this. Azkaban… it can be a lot to handle."  
  
Hermione took his hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. "I'm not worried, Severus. I am with you."  
  
"Foolish girl," he said affectionately. He squeezed her hand back, then closed his eyes, focused on the Apparition point in the small island on which Azkaban was built, and Disapparated them both.  
  
\------------  
  
Hermione always closed her eyes while Apparating; it served to heighten her focus on the Apparition point and also gave her a moment to orientate herself after the trip. A side benefit of this was that she felt a place before she saw it, and thus became very intimately acquainted with the way certain places felt, and how she could tell the difference between them without even opening her eyes.  
  
Upon arriving at Azkaban's Apparition point, the only thing Hermione could feel was _cold._  
  
They were indoors in a closed, windowless chamber of what looked like corroded steel. She could see their breath, little white puffs of air. The whole space gave her a bit of sensory deprivation. There must be a door somewhere, someone must have been alerted to their arrival. No exit, no way out, completely trapped in here. At least they could Apparate out… couldn't they? She heard nothing, saw nothing, felt nothing—nothing but cold. She held Severus's hand a little tighter and he gave her a reassuring squeeze back.  
  
"It's alright," he whispered, cursing himself for not warning her about the Apparition point. He knew she hated enclosed spaces and an inability to find a way out. _Stupid._  
  
Suddenly they heard a loud clanging noise and Hermione drew her wand at the sound, spinning wildly and causing her hair to fan out and whip Severus across the face. She looked to see that a door had appeared before them. Severus seemed to have expected this. It opened on its own and Severus led her through the door. They walked down a long stone corridor, lit only by torches on sconces every ten feet or so. It reminded Hermione a bit of the Muggle vampire movies she had watched with her father as a little girl. The memory gave her a little lump in her throat, but she pushed it down and focused on what she was doing. This was no Transylvanian mansion, there was no seductive vampire. They were in a prison to visit a child.  
  
Severus hadn't mentioned exactly who they were visiting here, but she knew he would in due course. Whenever they visited one of his graduates, he typically did not provide much backstory before arriving. She didn't know if it was because he thought she wouldn't come if he told her, or if he knew she would fret before arriving. Hopefully the latter; she would hope he trusted her well enough to know that she'd follow him just about anywhere. Even to the depths of hell. Which is where she thought she might be right now as they approached the guard.  
  
"Wands, please," the guard said lazily. They both laid them out on the counter while the guard weighed and inspected them, ascertaining their identities. Hermione had a bit of a flashback to standing in Gringotts in unfamiliar black robes and being asked to present a wand. She only barely repressed the shudder that accompanied the memory of being Bellatrix Lestrange.  
  
" 'o are you here to see?" the guard asked lazily.  
  
"Lennox Gibbon," Severus replied. The guard tapped some papers with his wand and said, " 'e's up n' about. Floor ten, cell 234. No magic can be used in the cell itself."  
  
"Isn't there a visiting area?" Hermione asked frantically. Severus shook his head as he retrieved their wands and coaxed her to come with him.  
  
There wasn't a shred of natural light in the entire place, Hermione decided. The entire place had a distinct dungeon atmosphere—sconces with torches, damp stone walls, cobwebs, sounds of distant wailing. The first time she heard a wail, she thought it was just her imagination; it was so distant and faint. But as they made their way up staircases and down corridors, she heard more and more. It was horrifying and haunting, and to think people lived like this. No wonder most of them went mad. No wonder Sirius had never seemed quite right; after twelve years in this hell-hole, anyone would lose their minds.  
  
The Dementors weren't physically present on the floor (she hoped that the horrible things were removed in the presence visitors as a rule) but their influence on the atmosphere was unmistakable—cold air, darkness, dampness, feelings of despair. Hermione calmed her mind as best she could; she had studied a bit of Occlumency in preparation for the Horcrux hunt and drew on that just now. Hide the thoughts and memories you cherish the most. Focus on the warm hand enclosed in yours. Breathe.  
  
They reached a door marked 234. It was made of steel and full of heavy bolts. A very thin strip provided the person inside with a small window to the outside corridor. Hermione wondered if they should do something to open it, but Severus just stood there, waiting patiently. Given that he had done this many more times than she had, she followed his lead and just waited for something to happen. She didn't have to wait long; soon there was a creak and the door swung open. Severus stepped inside gingerly, tugging Hermione along by the hand.  
  
The wretched creature inside the cell was balled up in the corner, prison robes nothing but grey rags, a thin blanket wrapped around him. He shivered; it was cold in here, and the poor thing had only a couple of thin layers of cloth over him. She felt a sudden urge to go to her wand and transfigure it all into something thicker, but reminded herself that she couldn't use magic in here. Enchantments probably blocked magic of any kind in here. After Sirius Black had successfully transformed into an Animagus whilst in his cell and Barty Crouch Jr. had assumed his mother's form with polyjuice, Hermione doubted the Ministry was willing to take any more chances.  
  
Letting go of her hand, Severus approached the figure in the corner. Gently touching his shoulder, he coaxed him out of his whatever-it-was (sleep? stupor?). The figure was a thin man, though given the age range Severus dealt with he was most likely still in his teens. His gaunt figure no doubt put years on his face that would otherwise not be there. Seeing who was there, the boy fell against Severus, who brought his arms around him without hesitation. The boy began shaking, and Hermione realised that he was probably crying. Suddenly Hermione felt like she was intruding on something very intimate, something private, and considered leaving. A look from Severus changed her mind; he encouraged her to come forward. She knelt on the dirty wet floor beside them.  
  
"Lennox," Severus said gently, "This is Hermione." The boy jerked abruptly at hearing the name (no doubt he recognised it—Hermione was a one-name celebrity in the Wizarding World) but Severus stilled him. "She's with me, she's a friend, and she wants to say hello." The boy eyed her warily. She was clearly a threat to him.  
  
She slowly held out her hand to him. "Pleased to meet you, Lennox," she said softly. The boy did not respond at first, but finally reached out a grimy hand to hers and held it limply and let go quickly. His skin was sickly and pale—when was the last time it had been touched by sunlight? He clung to Severus like a life raft; how often was this boy touched by others? And what had he done to deserve such a wretched existence?  
  
"Just remember… only six more months," Severus was saying, soothingly. "Continue to stay out of trouble here, understand?" The boy nodded. "Good."  
  
Severus was always kind and comforting with Hermione, and he was approachable, if not affectionate, with his charges at Grimmauld Place. But seeing him with his graduates was an experience unlike any other. He was compassionate, he was caring, he was… fatherly. It was clear that he cared about the welfare of these children very deeply, yet treated it like a deep, dark secret. Sure, this time last year if someone had told her that Severus Snape, back from the brink of death, had become tender and loving with children, she would have said they were barking.  
  
She still knew very little about Severus's upbringing, but suspected that he didn't get many hugs from his parents, and in his darkest days, his late teens to early twenties, he probably did not experience any true affection. How different might his life have been had he simply had someone to hold through that time? What difference might a few hugs have made?  
  
After awhile, Hermione could tell that Severus was wrapping up the visit so she stepped into the corridor to give them privacy to speak to one another without being overheard. Once she did, she suddenly felt a rush of despair wash over her. She had stolen her parents' memories without their consent and taken away their entire lives. As a result, she no longer had a family. Many of her friends were dead. She had no real job. The children she was working so hard to care for had only this horrible place to look forward to once they left the safety of Grimmauld Place. The Ministry was just as corrupt and ineffective as it had always been and not even Kingsley Shacklebolt could save it. She was in love with a man who would forever love a ghost.  
  
 _Wait, love?_  
  
Her hands were shaking and Hermione realised belatedly that she was shivering in the most bitter cold she had felt in years. She hadn't felt this kind of cold since… _oh._ She hadn't felt this kind of cold since the final battle at Hogwarts when a swarm of Dementors rushed at her and Harry and Ron.  
  
She looked up to find three of the dark, hooded, unholy creatures before her. She had never been up close to a Dementor before; Harry had always cast a Patronus quickly and kept them at bay. The three things just hovered before her. They needed to go away. She had to cast a Patronus.  
  
But… what happy thought could she cling to when all she could think about was everything that was wrong with the world and with her life? She raised her wand in her shaking hand and tried to muster the happiest memory she could.  
  
" _Expecto Patronum!_ " she cried. But only a few wisps of silver escaped her wand, swirling once in the darkness then fading away. She tried again, but the result was the same. The Dementors edged closer to her, towering over her, reaching out for her. >i>Why did she always have to have so much trouble casting a Patronus?  
  
Suddenly a bolt of silver white light shot past her and toward the Dementors, pushing them away to the end of the corridor and chasing them out of sight. She knew Severus had emerged from the cell and cast the Patronus without turning around. Not only was he the only person who could have cast it, she recognised it. Even if she hadn't seen it months earlier, she knew the story well enough that she would recognise it anywhere.  
  
Severus's Patronus was still a doe.  
  
\----------  
  
They returned to Grimmauld Place in silence. Azkaban's gloomy atmosphere did not disappear even after they left the black corridor and Apparated away. Even though Severus withdrew two pieces of chocolate from his pocket and encouraged her to eat, the sadness did not dissipate. Chocolate made it more bearable, but did not cure it. Only time and distance could improve one's mood after Azkaban.  
  
Once they entered the house and took off their cloaks and had a seat before the warm fire, Hermione just took Severus's hand and sat there, immobile. The upset she had felt at seeing his Patronus, and what it represented was caused by the Dementors, she told herself. This was a real relationship between them now, and they cared for each other, but no one said anything about falling in love. Besides, he'd loved Lily now for something like thirty-five years now. A relationship of only a few months' duration was nothing to compare to that.  
  
Besides, it's not as if Hermione had grown up with visions of a home and a home and children of her own. Quite the opposite, in fact. So really, a relationship of mutual enjoyment and companionship, which is what she had with Severus, was exactly what she both needed and wanted. They were partners in a great undertaking. Really, it was perfect for her. There was no need for anybody to fall in love.  
  
As they sat there in silence, watching the fire, their respite was broken by the sound of Harry entering the sitting room, looking frantic.  
  
"Did either of you see the _Prophet_ this morning?"  
  
Severus and Hermione shook their heads. They had left before the post owls arrived. Harry looked uneasy as he handed them the broadsheet and showed them the front-page article. Hermione felt the colour drain from her face as Severus's mouth drew tight and his eyes narrowed at the headline.  
  
 ** _A NEW GOLDEN TRIO? HARRY POTTER, SEVERUS SNAPE, AND HERMIONE PAY MINISTER A VISIT_**


	17. The Healer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Severus Snape can always be counted on to do the right thing… after he has exhausted every other alternative."

"Bloody hell," Severus muttered as he snatched the paper out of Harry's hands. The one thing he had wanted to avoid at all costs in this little venture was publicity. He knew he shouldn't have gone to the Ministry with them. He knew he should have insisted they disguise themselves. _"They're used to seeing us at the Ministry—no one will pay any attention,"_ they'd said. Severus snorted. That would be the last time he listened to their assurances.  
  
"It really isn't bad," Harry said hurriedly. "They don't know what we were doing there or why. No one but Kingsley knew why we were there, and he only said it was a bit of an Order reunion. Really, the only reason it's news at all is because Severus hasn't been seen near the Ministry in years, so seeing him at all, and with us beside him, apparently caused a bit of a stir."  
  
Severus was too busy scanning the article to respond. He'd be the judge of whether this was "bad" or not. Once he finished, he agreed with Harry's assessment, but only just. Yes, it was a fluff piece about Severus Snape appearing before the Minister flanked by two thirds of the Golden Trio. There was much speculation (Was Severus Snape going to be prosecuted after all? Was Harry Potter making a play for the job of Minister? What of Ron Weasley, who'd offered no comment?) but nothing factual and nothing close to the truth. Just the usual rubbish. The article made no mention of the children he was fostering. He allowed himself a little relief. But this was a close one, too close.  
  
He handed the paper to Hermione so that she could see for herself. She read it very quickly, scoffing and reading out loud a sentence that offended her. " 'Whilst the sudden appearance of the former spy and headmaster of Hogwarts drew the attention of most at the Ministry, one cannot also help but be surprised at his companion Hermione, who was last seen storming out of her job at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement without explanation. We at the Prophet wonder if the two incidents were at all related and, if so, what the relationship is between the two.' Ugh!" She crumpled the paper and threw it into the fire, causing some ash to fall to the floor. In an instant Kreacher appeared with a small broom, muttering to himself about filthy witches (Harry had forbidden him from uttering his favourite epithet) turning the house filthy. They ignored him.  
  
"Harry's right, that could have been much worse," Severus said, not in a mood to indulge Hermione's indignation. "But that was far too close. I should have trusted my instinct and not gone with you in the first place. Now, if we are ever seen in public together, it will draw attention, which is the last thing they need. We must lay low for awhile. I will visit my graduates alone for the time being; if I go to Azkaban or other high-profile places, the presence of a companion will draw notice. If either of you go anywhere related to this project, you will disguise yourselves. This will blow over but we need to give it time."  
  
Harry and Hermione hesitantly nodded. He had been the spy, he knew how to manipulate others, he knew how to make this go away. They didn't like it (he was basically sentencing them to house arrest) but they trusted his instincts on this. He'd successfully kept his motivations and activities ambiguous for twenty years; he could probably do this in his sleep.  
  
Just as Kreacher disappeared from cleaning away the ash the floo lit up with green flames and Neville Longbottom stumbled in, dragging in more ash and inviting a new reproach from Kreacher. "Morning," he said nervously, clearly not expecting to walk in and see all three of them.  
  
"Neville, what are you doing here, don't you have class? Is something wrong?" Harry asked urgently.  
  
"It's Saturday," Neville said. "Anyway, I'm here to tell you that Poppy agreed. She'll be here day after tomorrow to have a look at them all. She says she can do without their official medical records for now and just go by whatever you have on hand here and what they tell her. She'd like to meet with you before she sees them to get a sense of the situation."  
  
"Madam Pomfrey, of course!" Hermione said excitedly. "Why didn't we think of that? Oh that's wonderful."  
  
Severus sat stone-faced, not responding. She was coming tomorrow, and he was going to have to see her. He hadn't seen her since… well, not since back _then._ And he knew exactly what she thought of him back then.  
  
The thought filled his heart with dread more than any Dementor could.  
  
\-----  
  
"Severus?" Hermione asked him late that night as they snuggled together in his bed. Who would have thought that Severus Snape, feared by every Hogwarts student in the past two decades, was a cuddler? It wasn't out of possessiveness but a desire to give and receive affection. And he would never, ever admit that he liked it. So she never mentioned it; they would just do it and he would pretend that she made him do it and that was that.  
  
"Hmm?" He sounded sleepy but Hermione knew he was still awake from the way he wrapped his fingers around her curls, pulling them straight and watching them spring back.  
  
"About Azkaban…"  
  
"You want to know what Mr. Gibbon did?" Hermione nodded. "He went to a Muggle tavern, in which he became both inebriated and angry and at some point in the night used his wand on three patrons to transfigure them into sheep."  
  
"He's in Azkaban for _that?_ " Barty Crouch Jr. had turned Draco Malfoy into a ferret for the purpose of publicly humiliating him and it hadn't caused a stir, other than to enrage Professor McGonagall. It sounded like the sort of prank Fred and George Weasley might have pulled. Come to think of it, they might have done to Percy once…  
  
Severus nodded. "Illegal human transfiguration plus unauthorised underage magic plus breaking the statute of secrecy plus being the child of a Death Eater."  
  
"They charged him with all of that? Those are misdemeanors—how can he have been sent to Azkaban for it?"  
  
Severus sighed. "It's the law."  
  
"The added punishment for being the offspring of a Death Eater isn't the law."  
  
"Not officially. But it is allowed for the Wizengamot to mete out the maximum sentence for such misdemeanors, as well as order the time to run consecutively, thereby meeting the threshold for an Azkaban sentence."  
  
"I can't believe they did that."  
  
"I believed it, but I didn't want to. I was in the courtroom the entire time. It was not an unbiased tribunal. His appointed counsel was barely on his side."  
  
Hermione shook her head. "Makes it all the more depressing that Kingsley won't do anything about it." She propped herself up on an elbow so she could see him eye-to-eye. "Severus, if the Ministry isn't willing to help we have to do something to keep them out of these places. Please. I cannot watch that again."  
  
"Then do not come with me again," Severus said. "It's best that you not go for the foreseeable future, anyway."  
  
"You know what I mean," she retorted. "What good are we all doing here if this is what awaits them? I may be a sucker for hopeless causes but I want to do something, anything, for them. I know can't bring them here without risking everything, and I know there's not much else we can do, and I know that they will continue to make the choices they make, but please, just think about it?"  
  
Severus sighed and looked away. "It's not a matter of consideration," he whispered. "I can't do anything for them. I can't very well take a prisoner out of Azkaban, can I? Xavier Yaxley cannot be here if he is still addicted to narcotics; I cannot have that around them, and I am not equipped to help him detoxify himself. The ones in the… that place… you know why I can't bring them here. I have tried and tried and tried to think of ways to get them out of there, tried and tried to implement them, and each time it has failed. I'll not see them punished for my failures anymore."  
  
"What does that mean?"  
  
"It means that _they_ , not I, pay the price when hidden cameras capturing them with Ministry officials in compromising positions are discovered before I can retrieve them. It means that _they_ , not I, pay the price when they are discovered with Portkeys that do not work within the walls of that horrible place. It means that _they_ , not I, pay the price when I attempt to transfigure them into small animals to allow them to escape. They, not I, pay the price for my failures. The punishment is horrific, and no, I will not tell you what it is. No more."  
  
Hermione was lost for words.  
  
"Short of being able to Apparate in and out of that building, which I cannot do, and yes, I have attempted it, there is no way of getting them out of there without drawing the attention of the guards downstairs, who administer the punishments to them. I… I feel so fucking hopeless about the whole thing, Hermione," he said, his voice cracking, his native accent breaking through the way it always did when his defences broke down.  
  
"I… I had no idea."  
  
"I know," he said. He turned to her, eyes pleading. "I am well aware of how I have failed them, Hermione. It will haunt me for the rest of my life. All I can do is try not to repeat my failures and keep the youngest ones from slipping through my fingers. Please, please, just trust me on this and do not ask it of me again."  
  
She gave him a sad look and a minute nod. She lay down and curled up against him again, breathing in his scent as she felt his arms around her.  
  
"Alright," she said. "I won't."  
  
\--------  
  
Leopold was looking forward to the Christmas holidays. He hadn't seen Ermengarde since the day he left for Hogwarts, though they owled multiple times per week. Miss Granger sent him an owl weekly, and Mr. Snape once per month. He was looking forward to seeing Mr. Snape most of all. They had business to discuss.  
  
Leopold had known, deep down, even before he arrived there himself, that Brigita was not at Hogwarts anymore, and hadn't been for at least two years. That's when her owls had stopped. She clearly wasn't there anymore, and to keep his cover he couldn't ask. He had wanted to ask Mr. Snape about it, but knew better than to do so. Had he wanted to warn him, he would have. He might be in Gryffindor, though Leopold still wasn't sure if he was a Gryffindor, but he had been raised by the best of Slytherins. He knew that there was merit in waiting until the perfect time to pose a question. And speaking to Mr. Snape in person, over Christmas, was the time to do so.  
  
\---------  
  
Severus said that the children had never properly celebrated Christmas before. He hadn't had the resources to do it and the Ministry could never spare the money. Hermione, for her part, decided that situation needed to be rectified.  
  
Luckily, she had an in with the owners of the most popular shop in Diagon.  
  
George and Ron were always very accommodating in staying at the shop after closing and casting a freezing charm on all their merchandise so that it would not make any sudden noises. They had learned this the hard way after she had cast a strong Reducto on an errant bouncing ferret (thankfully, not a live ferret) that had startled her.  
  
She gave the Weasley brothers a big hug and sat down for a chat, gladly accepting a cup of tea from George. After catching up a bit (Hermione listening good-naturedly to George's barbs about Severus, including whether he really did sleep hanging upside-down from the ceiling and, if so, whether it was possible to have sex in that position—really, though, she was happy that all the Weasleys seemed to be very accepting of her relationship) she got down to business.  
  
"How would you like to make a charitable donation to some very needy children this Christmas?" she asked them. George, ever the businessman, was very interested. Donations were always good for business.  
  
"Have Ron or Harry let you in on what we've been working on?"  
  
George nodded. "Briefly, not the details, but we know you're working with some war orphans who have the unfortunate condition of being descended from Death Eaters."  
  
Grateful that he considered them orphans first and Death Eater children second, she pressed her luck. "As you can guess, they haven't exactly had many happy Christmases in their lives, least of all when they became wards of the Ministry. This Christmas, I'm in a position to change that, and I was hoping you might be willing to donate some Weasley products to them or, if not, be willing to sell the products to me at a discount."  
  
George waved his hand. "Relax, Granger. It's a contribution to something Harry is working on. It's been ten years, but I haven't forgotten that it was his start-up capital that got this place going. You could be building a memorial to You-Know-Who and I'd donate whatever you asked of me if you said it was a project important to Harry. Well, maybe not that, but pretty much anything else, including this. So of course, you have us on board. What did you have in mind?"  
  
After some discussion, Hermione left the shop laden with parcels to distribute. She took care to select things, with their help, that would be safe, amusing not too loud, not to dangerous, not about to pop out and scare them. Something a bit more… subdued. Ron and George knew their business and selected the exact products that would work.  
  
"You two are the best," she beamed.  
  
George again dismissed her sentiment with a wave of his hand. "Like I said, I'm on board all the way, even if I can't say I'm terribly sympathetic to the population you're serving." He gave her an apologetic smile. "Sorry, it's just, after all that happened…"  
  
"I understand," Hermione said. She had long since accepted that the Weasleys had lost too much in the last two wars to be enthused about what she was doing, but loved that they were decent enough wizards to not judge or condemn her for it. The Weasleys were truly an incomparable family.  
  
"Will we be seeing you at the Burrow this Christmas?" Ron asked, feigning nonchalance.  
  
Christmases at the Burrow had not been the same since losing Fred. Molly, in her depression, was unable or unwilling to cook as much as she always had, her preoccupation with how much everyone was eating had disappeared, and the general mood was maudlin.  
  
Hermione shook her head. "Thank you, no, I'm going to spend it at Grimmauld Place. I'm sure if I leave Severus to handle Christmas alone the tree will be decked out in black or something." She gave a smile. "But you will send everyone my best, yes?"  
  
"Mum would love to see you," Ron said. "She misses you."  
  
"I miss her too," Hermione said. Her relationship with Molly had been a bit strained after she and Ron ended their relationship, not to a detrimental degree, but not quite what it always had been. She knew Molly still worried about everyone too much and that it would reassure her to see Hermione at some point. "I'll come by sometime soon, I promise."  
  
Ron and George seemed satisfied at this, and so she made her good-byes, shrunk the parcels and put them in her pocket, and Disapparated back to Grimmauld Place.  
  
Severus couldn't take his eyes off Hermione after she arrived, his expression inscrutable. Luna merely gave her a dreamy smile and said, "I like it."  
  
"What?"  
  
Severus smirked and rolled his eyes. "Did either of the Weasley brothers offer you anything to eat or drink?"  
  
"Well, yes, George gave me a cup of… oh no." She waved her wand and cast a small mirror on one of the walls and found that her hair was rapidly changing from purple to pink to red to orange to yellow… and just continued to cycle through all the colours of the rainbow. Oh, those two! She tried a _Finite Incantatum_ but there was no change. She whipped around and looked at Severus, who stood behind her to fully appraise her new look. "Can you do anything about this?"  
  
He chuckled and shook his head. "If you ingested it, it's a colour change potion, and colour change potions have no antidote, they must be metabolised and flushed out of the system." He gazed at her hair thoughtfully. "Colour change potions are not easy to brew, least of all those that change colours after ingestion. In fact, it requires a combination of both charms and potions in a complex process that few people are able to master. I must say, this is quite advanced work; only a few of my NEWT students ever truly grasped it. I suppose I managed to teach the Weasleys a thing or two after all."  
  
Hermione made a sound of exasperation. "Stop being impressed with them. How long until this is gone?"  
  
Severus carefully studied (and appreciated?) her new hair. "Tomorrow morning you should be back to a lovely mousy brown."  
  
Hermione glared. "Mousy?"  
  
"Yes, mousy, but don't worry," he whispered in her ear, "I confess I have a particular weakness for women with mousy brown hair." He stepped back. "I take it you got what you were looking for?" She nodded. "Then it was worth it."  
  
That earned him a glare severe enough to match one of his own.  
  
\-----  
  
Severus looked down at his hands and found that the parchment he'd been holding had been shredded into hundreds of tiny pieces. Dropping them on the table, he cast a quick Reparo and returned it to its rightful place on top of the pile of medical records.  
  
It wasn't often that Severus Snape was nervous. He was master enough of his emotions that he never was nervous; he was either prepared or unprepared (usually the former, rarely the latter) but never nervous. Now… blame it on Hermione or the children he'd been fostering or on Harry bloody Potter wanting his friendship or on Luna Lovegood and her frighteningly accurate perceptions, but now Severus felt nervous.  
  
He and Poppy had parted on less than amicable terms. All through the last year of the war she had seen him as a cold-hearted murdering Death Eater who was lording over the school and terrorising helpless children, which is exactly what Severus had intended for her to see. When he lay dying in the Boat House someone (probably Hermione, though she'd yet to admit to it) had alerted Poppy and she'd come down to the Boat House after the battle to find him there, lying in a pool of his own blood, clinging ever so tenuously to life.  
  
To all appearances he'd been unconscious, but the truth was he was fully aware of his surroundings at all times. He'd heard Poppy come in, whispering an oath under her breath. He felt her kneel down beside him, touching a warm yet hesitant hand to the other side of his neck, the side that did not bear puncture wounds, to check for a pulse. When she felt one, she had let out a sigh.  
  
"Severus Snape," she had whispered under her breath. "I just… I don't know what to believe anymore." She'd dressed his wound, levitated him onto a stretcher she must have conjured, and taken him up to the Great Hall with the other injured who were waiting for transport to St. Mungo's. The walk up to the castle was long and largely silent. Just before entering the hall, he had heard Poppy whisper to herself again. "Useless. Useless."  
  
She'd been talking about trying to save him, he just knew it. Useless to bring him back, after all he had done. Useless to take her time to go down there to just return a comatose body that was unlikely to last through the night. Useless to save a man who could likely only look forward to either life in a hospital bed or the Dementor's Kiss. Useless to pity a man who had ensured he had no friends left to mourn him. Useless to save a man so close to death. Useless to spend another second thinking about him.  
  
Useless. Useless.  
  
The floo flared green and Severus stopped the pacing he hadn't realised he'd been doing. With a whoosh in came Longbottom and, holding his hand as he helped her through the floo, Poppy Pomfrey.  
  
Severus used all of his best Occlumency and spy training to render his face expressionless. She would not have the satisfaction of seeing him panic. Nobody saw him panic; not even Hermione. Push the feelings away, place them in a box, lock the box away, bury it under the ground. Peace.  
  
Severus did not want to be the first to speak, but then again if he waited, he might look weak. No, not speaking would unnerve her; had unnerved countless students over the years. Yes, he would just stand there, arms crossed, his best glare on his face, and wait there for awhile. He tried to push aside the niggling voice in his head reminding him that she was here to do him a favour. It wouldn't do to listen to it today.  
  
Poppy met his glare, standing there with him eye-to-eye. Few people entered into staring contests with Severus Snape. She was brave to try.  
  
Finally Longbottom spoke up. "Do I, er, need to provide introductions?"  
  
Severus and Poppy both turned to glare at Longbottom. With a dumb smile he muttered something about saying hello to Lovegood and ran up the stairs.  
  
Poppy rolled her eyes. "I still find it hard to think of him as a colleague," she mused, her eyes following Longbottom's form up the stairs. "Somehow he's always the chubby little boy who came into my infirmary covered in stinksap. It's always hard when a former charge comes to Hogwarts to teach. You always want to see him as the child he was, not the man he has become. He's always in there, somewhere, hidden in the man's face."  
  
She turned to Severus, meeting his eyes, but this time with a soft expression. "Sometimes, Severus, even in that last year, all I could see was the skinny little boy who turned up more times in my hospital wing than Harry Potter, the little boy who needed not medicine but affection. The multitude of ills it would have cured… the pain it would have healed…"  
  
Tears welled in Poppy's eyes and Severus had to use all of his self-control to keep his expression, well, non-expressive.  
  
"When Harry Potter and Tom Riddle dueled in the Great Hall, Harry said some things about you that I had long suspected but had never confirmed. And it hit me like a Hippogriff charging into me—what you had done and why you had done it. Things clicked, they seem so obvious now. If you had truly been on their side, why keep all the teachers on staff? Why not sack us or kill us and bring in Death Eaters to teach? Why block off all the secret passages out of the school? I went up to see Albus's portrait; he hid in your office all year and I always thought it curious that he should not wander the castle from portrait to portrait to keep an eye on things. I wondered if you had somehow cursed or even destroyed the portrait. But after… it all ended… I went up there and spoke to him for the first time in a year. He told me everything, Severus. Everything.  
  
"I walked downstairs as if I were in a daze. There were injured people all around me, people needing care, and all I could think about was what I had just learned. Then Miss Granger—"  
  
 _I knew it_ , Severus thought.  
  
"—came up to me and said that your body was down in the Boat House and wondered if she should retrieve it, and I decided I would go. I am no stranger to death or blood. I was going to clean your corpse and bring it up to the Great Hall—a hero's homecoming. The Headmaster who died defending his school would deserve nothing less. You looked so young lying there. You looked like you used to back then. I was reminded of the little boy who was brought in with bruises on his face and a werewolf scratch on his stomach. The little boy who needed comfort the most yet shied away from it at every opportunity.  
  
"And you were alive, Severus, you were alive! Barely but still with us. It was… so much to take in. Once I got you cleaned up and brought you up to the Great Hall I thought of all the potential you had, and how it had been stripped away by this madman. I thought of how your loyalty to another man cost you everything you had left. I realised that even if you were ever to come back, it was useless, because what did you have to come back for? What did this world have left for you? Would anyone else see you through new eyes, or would I be alone?"  
  
Severus swallowed an especially large lump in his throat.  
  
"Severus…" Poppy walked up to him slowly. "I don't know what more to say to you."  
  
He unclenched his jaw and unfolded his arms and just stood there, limp. He had expected Poppy to say many things to him, but nothing like this. She sounded like she was almost… apologising to him.  
  
"There is nothing to say," he muttered. "Nothing more to say."  
  
The next thing he knew, the mediwitch had thrown her arms around him in a fierce embrace. He was startled and not sure how to respond.  
  
"I'm glad you came back, Severus," she whispered. "If anyone deserves a second chance at life and happiness, it is you. You live for you now."  
  
"I don't," he whispered, bringing his arms around her tentatively. "Never for myself."  
  
"For them?" she asked.  
  
He nodded. "For them."  
  
She let him go and stood back a bit, her hands braced on his biceps, taking him in. "You should have come to me sooner, Severus. You remember what Albus always used to say: 'Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it.' I know many things were said and done, but you always will be a member of the Hogwarts family, doubly as staff and as student, and as one of the most courageous headmasters the school has ever seen. I am only sorry that we did not appreciate it at the time."  
  
"You weren't meant to," Severus muttered.  
  
"Yes, and you can believe I had words with Albus's portrait about that," Poppy said.  
  
"I confess that I did not expect to hear any of this," Severus said. It was easy to talk to Poppy. It always had been. He had not realised until just now how much he had missed it.  
  
"Severus… the queue of wizards and witches in this world who want to both thank you and apologise to you would span all of Britain. If you are not used to it by now, get used to it."  
  
He rolled his eyes. "Bloody Potter. Turned me into a martyr. False hero worship all around. I did what was necessary, no more and no less."  
  
"Nothing false, only heroic," Poppy said firmly. "Any person can do what needs to be done. A true hero does that which must be done and that which no one else will do and does it when no one else is looking."  
  
If Severus was the kind to hug, he would hug her. But he wasn't, so he didn't. He only nodded at her, and Poppy nodded back, patting him on the cheek as if he was eleven years old and just needed some chocolate to cure him of a minor hex.  
  
"Now, I believe you have some patients for me to look at? Mr. Longbo—Professor Longbottom filled me in on what you have been doing here."  
  
Severus nodded. "I know I don't have to ask you to stay discreet about it." Poppy nodded. "I have to warn you, some of what you are about to hear is grim…" He led her to the kitchen and shut the door.  
  
\--------  
  
Unbeknownst to Severus and Poppy, Neville had warned everyone upstairs that he was afraid the two might duel. Hermione and Luna had been aware of just how tense Severus was in anticipation of this visit, and Luna and Neville had seen Poppy's rage at Severus during his year as Headmaster. Poppy might give him a piece of her mind and dredge up old and dangerous memories. Severus might become acerbic and defend himself. They both might say terrible things that they could never come back from. They might draw their wands.  
  
They thought it couldn't hurt to keep half an eye on what was going on downstairs. In the interest of keeping the peace, of course. For the children's sake.  
  
So Neville, Hermione, Harry, and Luna (who had left the children drawing upstairs) all tiptoed down to the top of the stairs and, behind a Notice-Me-Not charm, watched the entire exchange. By the end, Luna and Hermione were clinging to each other and Harry and Neville were complaining that Kreacher wasn't dusting enough because they now had something in their eyes.  
  
"Boys," Hermione muttered under her breath, smiling.  
  
\-------  
  
Poppy scribbled down the last of her notes and, with a heavy sigh and tears in her eyes, looked up at Severus. "Merlin, Severus…" she said. "I've seen a lot of troubled cases in my time at Hogwarts, but this…"  
  
He nodded. "What's worse is that this is an improvement from when I found them, and in the last six months, in this environment, they've been improving as well. But…"  
  
"But they're not all the way there yet," Poppy said grimly. "Severus, you mustn't blame yourself. You are doing all you can."  
  
He sighed. "It's not enough, though, is it?"  
  
"You're trying to undo years and years of neglect, abuse, and trauma," she said. "And until very recently you were attempting to do so single-handedly. The fact that these children can even be in the same room as another person, can walk and talk and eat and even laugh sometimes, is remarkable. Not all of them will improve completely. Some will move past it and have normal lives; others never will. I know that you demand nothing less than perfection, from both others and yourself, but in this case you will have to be satisfied with, 'I did the best I could.'"  
  
He shook his head. Anything less than perfection was failure, and he was beginning to tire of failure with regard to them.  
  
"I suppose I had best go and examine them all, then?" Poppy asked, rising to her feet. Severus nodded. He and Lovegood and Hermione had transfigured Hermione's old room on the first floor as an examination room. He led Poppy up the stairs and let her set up whilst he went to retrieve the first child on the list. Ambrose Avery. Had problems with seizures ever since one of Glastonbury's "volunteers" had slammed him hard against a wall four years earlier. His magic was intermittent and difficult to control, though as of late he had managed to prevent any mishaps. It was a start.  
  
He made his way to the attic and found all fourteen children. Some were drawing with Lovegood and Longbottom, whilst others were listening to Potter spin some story of his heroism. Bloody typical. And a few others were sitting in a quiet corner with Hermione, reading.  
  
No one paid attention to him at the moment, so he allowed himself to lean against the doorframe and take in the scene, watching that magnificent creature read aloud in soft, calm tones.  
  
Poppy was right; he was satisfied with nothing less than perfection.  
  
\--------  
  
"I'll walk you out," Hermione offered after Poppy had seen and examined all the children and given Severus a list of minor treatments and potions he would need to administer. Poppy smiled and walked down the stairs.  
  
"It's so good of you to come here," Hermione said earnestly. "They've needed a Healer and no one else will do it and Severus is terrible at thanking people so I wanted to say… well, thank you for everything."  
  
"Thanks aren't needed, I am happy to do it and am only sorry that Severus did not ask sooner," Poppy replied. "My only regret is that the others never came to see me whilst at Hogwarts; I could have helped. And while anyone who has met Severus knows that he is terrible at thanking people or accepting help, I can see that you know him in a much more, say, intimate way?"  
  
Hermione blushed. _Neville and his big mouth._  
  
"Oh don't be embarrassed, dear, it was written all over your faces. I am happy for you both. You both deserve happiness and stability after all you have been through, and I am happy that you seem to have found it with each other."  
  
"Thank you," Hermione said, smiling now, cheeks still a bit red. "I am, and I'm pretty sure he is too."  
  
"He is, my dear, he is."  
  
"I couldn't help but notice your interaction," Hermione said hesitantly, "and it seems that Severus quite values your opinion, doesn't he?"  
  
"I suppose you could put it that way," Poppy said. "I was one of the few he let come near him whenever he was injured during the war. Considering I wasn't even a member of the Order, that was a great deal of trust."  
  
"I wonder… well, you must remember many of the orphans of Death Eaters who were formerly in Severus's care and went to Hogwarts?"  
  
"And left, all of them, very early on. Harassed and bullied and often harmed; I only saw them when they were so injured that others brought them in. A very bad business."  
  
"Many of them are now on the streets, or in Azkaban, or in brothels." Poppy tsked at this. "I have encouraged Severus to bring them here, some of them at least, to help get their lives straightened out. He says that the risk of the Ministry finding out would be too high since they are technically their charges, and that the ones in the brothels are impossible to sneak out of there without them getting hurt. It's not that I don't believe him; I do believe that he is telling me the truth about everything he's done so far and everything he's tried to do. He claims to have run out of options, but I just don't think that it's true—how can that be? There must be another way of helping them, one we haven't thought of. There's always another option, we just haven't found it yet. I don't suppose that you understand why, or that you could speak to him?"  
  
Poppy gave Hermione a wry smile. "You always were Hogwarts' patron saint of lost causes, weren't you?"  
  
"But do you think you could change his mind?"  
  
Poppy shook her head. "I sympathise with your dilemma, Miss Granger, but one thing we both know about Severus is that if he does not want to do something, he will not do it, no matter what it is or who is asking it of him. I think only Albus was ever able to do it, and even then he did so by manipulating the poor man's emotions, which I know you will never stoop to."  
  
"I guess I just… I don't understand it. Giving up like that. Writing the whole thing off as a lost cause. He goes out and sees them as frequently as he is able, but there are many of them and only one of him and it just makes so little sense to me."  
  
"Don't attempt to understand it, try to understand _him._ Just be patient. If I know him, he will come around to it eventually."  
  
"What makes you say that?"  
  
Poppy grabbed a handful of floo powder and smiled at her former charge. "Because, Miss Granger, it is the right thing to do."  
  
Hermione looked at her quizzically as she stepped into the fireplace. Poppy smiled and spoke one more time before disappearing in a flash of green flame.  
  
"Severus Snape can always be counted on to do the right thing… after he has exhausted every other alternative."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Useless, useless," were John Wilkes Booth's dying words. I have no intention of honoring him; I just think it's a great line.
> 
> The closing line is an adaptation of a quote attributed to Winston Churchill. Simply replace "Severus Snape" with "America."
> 
> Coming Up: Christmas comes to Grimmauld Place and elsewhere.


	18. O Holy Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus and Leopold lived in a world without absolutes, a world of half-truths. Wars do that.

Christmas Eve found Hermione crying in the shower. Crying for all she had lost, crying for all she had seen, and crying, above all, for them.  
  
Hermione did not allow herself to cry often; only when overwhelmed and especially alone. She had broken down once before Severus, and was determined not to do so again. He had hated it and she had hated it. It was weakness and it would overwhelm her.  
  
But here, in the shower, she could hide her sobs in the sound of the spray, curl up, and let herself break down. Once she got it out of her system, she could wash it off and step out. It would be like it had never even happened.  
  
\-------  
  
_TWELVE HOURS EARLIER_  
  
Miss Granger met Leopold at the station, offering him a hug as a welcome. Gryffindors, Leopold had discovered, had to hug constantly. Couldn't avoid it. Seemed they would die if they couldn't do it. So he tolerated her hug when he would preferred the handshake Mr. Snape would have offered.  
  
Snape. They had to talk. Today.  
  
Miss Granger was asking him all sorts of questions about the trip and his friends. He gave honest answers but kept to himself the fact that he and Clara had held hands the whole way to London. That was private.  
  
Miss Granger had offered her hand to Leopold and he took it; he hated side-along Apparition but it really was convenient. With a pop they arrived in the doorway of the house at Grimmauld Place. Number Twelve.  
  
Before he had even a second to realise what was happening he found himself enveloped in a mass of curly blonde hair and teary blue eyes. Ermengarde was wrapped so tightly around him he could barely breathe. He was not sure when he had done it but he found his arms wrapped tightly around her, stroking her hair, pulling her closer. He felt wetness on his cheeks but ignored it for now.  
  
Ermengarde, for her part, was sobbing and talking at the same time. "I thought I'd never see you again. I thought you'd disappear on me like Brigita."  
  
"Never, never," he found himself reassuring her. "I'll never leave you behind."  
  
The two of them, brother and sister, each the only person the other had left in the world, clung to each other, sobbing, in the foyer of Grimmauld Place. Whether it was for a minute or several hours, Leopold did not know. He only knew that he was back where he belonged, with his sister, and that was all he needed.  
  
\---------  
  
In the midst of their reunion, Severus had deftly removed Hermione from the room and taken her into the kitchen. Leopold and Ermengarde would need a few minutes alone together, and he, the man who knew the value of solitude and privacy better than perhaps anyone else, was all too happy to give it to them.  
  
"She really believed he was never coming back," Hermione whispered.  
  
Severus nodded. "She has reason, you know."  
  
Hermione remembered Poppy's parting words from a few weeks ago, but could not help herself saying, "They deserve to know what happened to their sister, Severus. Leopold knows she wasn't at Hogwarts, but he doesn't want to say anything to Ermengarde until he knows for sure what happened to her." She gave him her best piercing-but-not-angry stare.  
  
"He's only eleven, Hermione," Severus pointed out. "And he's the eldest one here. There are some things an eleven year old should never hear. This is one of them."  
  
"They have a right to know."  
  
Severus closed his eyes. He knew that she thought she could wear him down on this. It was not going to work. She would do well to remember that.  
  
All he said in response was, "They shouldn't be disturbed right now."  
  
They both turned their heads at the sound of the kitchen door opening, Hermione's hand going for her wand but pausing when she saw who it was. Leopold Clairemont stood in the doorway, cheeks stained with tears, looking at Severus menacingly.  
  
"Mr. Snape," he said calmly in a voice too commanding for a boy of eleven, "You and I need to talk."  
  
\--------  
  
"Where is my sister?" Leopold asked without preamble.  
  
Severus crossed his arms and eyed the boy warily. He had taken him down to the cellar to speak; his multiple warnings to not enter the room and permanent silencing charm on the walls ensured that they could speak in confidence.  
  
"She is wherever you left her before you demanded to speak to me," Severus drawled, his voice dripping with indifference. This tactic had been very effective in scaring the courage out of young Gryffindors during his years as a teacher, and he hoped that it would save him now.  
  
"Don't play games with me, Snape," the boy said. Not even Harry Potter had dared such disrespect in his first year. _Also, Snape?_ Severus thought. S _ince when does he call me that?_ "You know that I am talking about Brigita. You know that I know that she is not at Hogwarts and has not been for some time. I think you know where she is and I want you to tell me."  
  
"Your subtlety could use some improvement," Severus mocked. "It is clear why you were sorted into Gryffindor."  
  
"Don't change the subject," Leopold said in a dangerous voice that coldly reminded Severus of his father, Evan Rosier. He must have reminded himself, for his voice suddenly grew smaller and less certain. "Do you know where Brigita is?"  
  
Severus took a sharp inhale and a long look at Leopold. He cursed himself for letting it come to this. None of the others had ever asked him before. None. He was unprepared. He considered for a moment that perhaps Hermione had been right. He really didn't want to think that Hermione might be right. So he summoned his best Professor voice and Professor glare and looked down his long nose at the boy.  
  
"I don't owe you any explanations," he said stiffly.  
  
"Please…" he said, his earlier anger dissipating, revealing the sad, orphaned boy he really was. "My parents are dead, and that makes me the man of my family, and that means that I need to know where my sister is." He swallowed thickly. "Is she even alive?"  
  
For a long time neither said anything. Few first year Hogwarts students had ever dared to enter a staring contest with Severus Snape. Curiously, or perhaps not so curiously, they had all been Gryffindors.  
  
Finally Severus broke the silence. "She is alive."  
  
"Is she safe?"  
  
He hesitated, weighing every word carefully. "She is not in danger." That was not entirely true, but it was true enough. Severus and Leopold lived in a world without absolutes, a world of half-truths. Wars do that.  
  
Leopold blinked heavily and sighed. He tore his pale eyes away from the towering man and looked to the floor.  
  
Severus's mind was a tempest. He wanted to protect the boy from knowing his sister's fate, and he knew enough about Gryffindors to know that they had a terrible habit of charging head-first into situations without stopping to think for just one moment. He wanted to protect the boy's innocence just a little longer. But of course, the boy had lost his innocence a long time ago.  
  
Severus, contrary to popular opinion, did not enjoy cruelty. He did not enjoy upsetting children. When he did it, he did it for their own good. And before Hermione had inserted herself into his life, he would have insisted that the way he had been speaking to Leopold was for the boy's own good.  
  
Unfortunately for Severus, this was the first of his charges to not be in Slytherin. Slytherins would understand. Slytherins would not demand answers, at least not outright. Slytherins would not have formed the attachment in the first place. This boy…he was a Gryffindor. Gryffindors needed to be handled differently. Hermione understood Gryffindors. And… Severus understood Gryffindors better than he would ever admit, and he knew that the less information a Gryffindor had, the stupider they tended act. A Gryffindor left in the dark was liable to act even more irrationally than normal.  
  
Severus didn't even want to think it, but Hermione might, just might, have a point when she said that the boy had every right to know what was happening to his family. Right now, Ermengarde was all Leopold had left. He deserved to know that he still, somewhere, had Brigita. Even Severus had to admit that it was cruel to continue to deny the boy information, any information.  
  
Ever the Slytherin, he equivocated. The boy did deserve to know, and would know.  
  
But not today.  
  
Severus knelt on the floor before Leopold, eye to eye with the boy. "Leopold," he said softly. "I know it's hard, but please trust me in that your sister is alive and is safe. But… for now, it is not safe for you to know where she is."  
  
"Is she in Azkaban?" whispered the little boy who, only a few minutes earlier, had stood toe-to-toe with one of the most terrifying wizards in Britain. Ever the little Gryffindor, Severus thought.  
  
"No," Severus replied softly. "Not in Azkaban. Nowhere near Azkaban." The boy seemed relieved to hear that.  
  
"Someday," Severus continued, "I will be able to take you to your sister Brigita. But right now you do the most good for your sister Ermengarde to trust me and stay at Hogwarts. You are right—you are the 'man of the house' so to speak, and you have to do right by them. You do right by them now by trusting me and finishing your education." He tilted the boy's chin up so that their eyes would meet. "Do you trust me?"  
  
Leopold hesitated. He looked into the man's eyes, dark as his own was light, and finally nodded.  
  
"I am grateful you do, Leopold," Severus said. "I will endeavour to continue to earn your trust. I hope that, when we are able to speak of it more, you will forgive me and understand."  
  
Leopold nodded. He had got answers, at least a few of them. Brigita was alive. She was not in Azkaban. For now, that would have to do.  
  
He hated Severus Snape for not sharing more, but he accepted it, at least for now. He had given his word that he would tell Leopold more when the time was right. He found himself believing the man. He was an honourable war hero, the hero of Wizarding Britain, though he seemed like he did not want to be. Such a man would never break his word…  
  
Right?  
  
\----------  
  
He had fought tooth and nail to avoid putting up a tree. Said that civilised people did not bring trees into their homes. Said it was too Muggle-ish for a group of pureblood children who had known nothing but Wizarding customs. Said it would only encourage foolish sentimentality. Said that it was unsanitary. Said that no one but she would enjoy it.  
  
"Be a dear and pick up a tree or you're dressing up as Father Christmas," she'd told him after he'd run out of excuses.  
  
He bought the tree, but since decorating it had not been part of their bargain, he left that up to her.  
  
Severus leaned against the wall in the back of the ground floor sitting room as he watched Hermione and Lovegood (alright, _Luna_ —he'd promised Hermione) transfigure and charm the tree to the specifications of the chattering children.  
  
"Turn the faerie lights purple!"  
  
"Grow roses on the branches!"  
  
"Can you make the tree make music?"  
  
"Make snow fall on the tree!"  
  
It was such a far cry from the Christmases of recent years, which Severus had not even bothered to celebrate as it got near. He thought it better to ignore the holiday and try to make them forget about it rather than rub in their faces how little the Ministry cared about them. He was not much of a Christmas person as an adult. He had been, in his youth. In spite of Tobias Snape's penchant for ruining things with his temper and his sharp tongue (which his son had regrettably inherited), Christmases in their home had been special.  
  
Severus loved Christmas because it was the only day of the year his mother used magic. She had been good at it. He wished she had used it against his father, to make their lives better. Her heart just hadn't been in it. But on Christmas, she would remember herself and what she was capable of, and teach her son how beautiful magic could be.  
  
Tobias had usually passed out on the couch by half seven, and once they were sure he was out for good, Eileen would take her son by the hand, lead him out to the small back garden, charm it into a thick layer of blue ice, transfigure his shoes into ice skates, and fly with him over the ice. Conjured snowflakes would fall around them, and the softest tinkling of bells could be heard just on the edge of hearing.  
  
He swallowed. Much as she had been neglectful and weak and depressed and stingy with affection, Eileen Snape was still his mother, and every Christmas he allowed himself to miss her.  
  
Hermione and Luna finished decorating the tree to the children's specifications and set about creating the ambiance. With a few flicks of her wand Hermione conjured a hundred candles and set them floating over everyone's heads, not unlike the candles in the Great Hall at Hogwarts, Leopold had pointed out. They dimmed the rest of the lights to maximise the effect. Luna had joined Longbottom (there would be no first names with him, absolutely not) on a settee and charmed the fire to smell like cinnamon.  
  
Suddenly it flared green and two figures climbed out of the fire. "Harry! Ginny!" Luna cried happily.  
  
"What are you doing here?" asked Hermione.  
  
"Well, we have our big to-do with the Weasleys tomorrow and thought, for Christmas Eve, it might be nice to spend with the other half of my family," Harry said happily, looking at Hermione. She beamed back at him. They embraced each other fiercely, giving each other a kiss on the cheek as they did. Ginevra Potter looked on at them, holding her son in one arm and rubbing her pregnant belly with the other. Her expression was complicated. Severus prided himself on being able to read people as easily as books, and yet he could not define her expression. She wasn't unhappy, and she wasn't exactly happy either. Was it… resignation? That would make sense. As much as he knew Harry loved his wife, his relationship with Hermione was something special.  
  
Severus couldn't help but be a bit jealous sometimes of Potter. He knew that their relationship was similar to that of siblings and, to the best of his knowledge, always had been. They were both alone in the Wizarding World, and had found comfort in each other. Harry understood Hermione better than just about anyone, even Severus himself, he admitted grudgingly.  
  
He and Lily had never really got to that point, Severus mused. Not like Harry and Hermione. Perhaps if they had had more time together, they could have. He had a feeling that Harry and Hermione had still been ironing the creases out of their friendship in their late teens, and, unlike him and Lily, had done so successfully.  
  
He was pleased with his relationship with Hermione. She had stirred feelings with him he had not been aware that he could ever have again, and she affected him. When she was miserable, he was miserable. If she was happy, he was… well, if not exactly happy, at least not miserable. No one else's mood had ever affected his like that before, but then again, Severus had never lived with a lover before. Perhaps this was normal. Lily and he had been in separate houses their entire lives, both in and out of Hogwarts. Perhaps that was how he could have grown to be so oblivious to her moods.  
  
"Severus!" Harry called happily from across the room. He made his way over to stand next to him. The charmed reindeer on his hideous jumper danced about. One even had a glowing, blinking red nose.  "Happy Christmas."  
  
"And to you," Severus replied cordially but curtly. He took a step back from Harry and his festive attire. "We did not expect to see you."  
  
"We weren't expecting to come, either, but it just felt… not right to not be here. Do you know what I mean?"  
  
"No." He really didn't.  
  
"Hard to explain," Harry said, sensing Severus wanted the subject dropped. "It looks lovely in here."  
  
"Hermione and Luna are responsible for it."  
  
"I'm sure you contributed to, you just don't want to admit it." His voice dropped a bit and he edged a bit closer. "While I have you here, I have something I want to tell you. Do you think we could go into the kitchen?"  
  
Severus nodded, wary of what fresh hell Harry Potter would propose tonight. Harry motioned for his wife to join them and they made their way into the kitchen.  
  
"Well, there's really no easy way to say this," he began.  
  
"No, there isn't," his wife chimed in, looking very uneasy. None of the Weasleys were comfortable around him just yet.  
  
"But, well, as you probably know, we're having another boy…"  
  
Severus hadn't known that and really didn't know or care where this was going.  
  
"And we want to name him after two of the men who, aside from my parents, really protected and helped us through the war," Harry continued. "So we plan to name our son Albus."  
  
_Good God,_ Severus thought.  
  
"And for a middle name," Harry continued uneasily, "we plan to use Severus. Albus Severus." They looked at him expectantly, as if they expected gratitude from him for this news.  
  
To say that he was shocked was an understatement. As quickly as he lost it, Severus regained his composure, screwed his face up into his best glare, and in a deep and dangerous voice said, "No."  
  
"What do you mean, 'no,' it's our way of honouring you!" Harry said.  
  
Severus shook his head. "Absolutely not."  
  
"Gin?" Ginny took her husband's hint and took her leave, leaving Harry and Severus alone in the kitchen. "Severus… try me. I know you believe that I cannot be taught, but help me understand."  
  
Severus sighed. "Harry Potter," he gestured between them, "we are not friends."  
  
Harry gave him a stupid smile when he replied. "Of course we are."  
  
"No," Severus said in a dangerous voice. "We are not. I tolerate you and you have some misguided perception of me. That is it."  
  
"I know you hate the idea of it, but we are friends."  
  
"No."  
  
"Severus…"  
  
"You have heard what I have to say on the subject," Severus said, his voice like steel again. "I trust I will not have to tell you again." With that, he stalked out of the room.  
  
Bloody boy.  
  
\-----------  
  
As the night wore on, everyone grew softer and quieter, sitting in the dimmed room, the sights and smells of Christmas all around them. Hermione joined Severus where he leaned against the wall. They showed no outward affection toward each other (the children all knew they were in a relationship but they saw no need to advertise the fact) but did risk brushing their hands together for just one moment, briefly linking their pinky fingers together.  
  
Severus noticed that Hermione's eyes were glistening, reflecting the purple lights and candles. With a slight cock of his head and raised eyebrow he asked her if she was all right. She nodded and just said, "I think I need a shower, Transfiguration always takes it out of me." She bade good night to everyone and climbed the stairs.  
  
He watched her go up, debating with himself whether he should follow her up there or not. She had seemed a bit troubled, and as much as he knew Hermione wanted to believe she was good at mastering her emotions, it was very easy to tell when something was on her mind.  
  
He turned back to face the room to find Luna standing before him.  
  
"I know you're debating whether you should go up with her. I think she's a bit upset. She'll need some time alone, but then I think she would like you to follow her once she does."  
  
Severus shook his head. How does she do it? The best Occlumens in all of Wizarding Britain, perhaps the entire Wizarding World, and she could read his mind as easily as Severus could read the emotion of a Gryffindor.  
  
Luna turned to rejoin Longbottom on the couch when Severus stopped her.  
  
"Luna…" She turned and looked at him. "How do you do it?" He knew she would know what he meant.  
  
She smiled. "I don't do anything special. I just see you."  
  
"See? Like a Seer?"  
  
She shook her head. "No. I just _see_ you, as a person. You say a lot in your eyes. They reveal everything a person needs to know in order to know you, if they're only willing to look."  
  
He considered what she was saying.  
  
"I know you think that you're an inscrutable man, Severus, and in many ways I suppose you are. You assume that because neither Dumbledore nor Voldemort, the two greatest modern Legilimens, could ever read you, that you were unreadable. But if you think about it, Dumbledore was always more focused on his own agenda, and as long as Voldemort heard what he wanted to hear, he wouldn't press you."  
  
Dear God, Severus thought, it's like the witch was at my bloody side during all of it.  
  
"But don't worry, " Luna said cheerfully with her trademark dreamy look, "we can all _see_ you here, and you have nothing to fear from us."  
  
\-------  
  
Severus had charmed his shower so that water no longer fell from the nozzle but instead in a rainfall from the ceiling. For a man who had not two days ago claimed that only savages brought nature into the home, he seemed to prefer showers that were more like rainfalls. It made for a more enjoyable experience if more than one person was in the shower at a time (and they had tested this thoroughly). It was also just a nice bit of escapism—if Hermione closed her eyes, she could imagine she was outside.  
  
It had taken every ounce of her self-control to keep herself from breaking down whilst charming the house for Christmas. She could handle her estrangement from her parents every other day of the year, but on Christmas, it was too much. Too many happy memories from her early childhood, too few from recent years. Christmases at the Burrow had been lovely, but at the same time had only reinforced the fact that she no longer had any family of her own.  
  
Her tears began almost as soon as the charmed water from the ceiling began to fall. At first she stood under the spray, head tilting back and letting tears and raindrops mix. She could hide it that way. Then it had devolved into sobs.  
  
In a house full of people, one she shared with her lover, she felt completely and utterly alone.  
  
She did not regret erasing herself from her parents' memories for one moment. It had saved their lives and kept them hidden from all threats. Even now, over seven years later, Hermione was not entirely sure that it would be safe to attempt contact with them. Then again, Hermione still feared that she herself would never feel completely safe ever again. Not after all she had seen. Twenty-five years ago, the Wizarding World had rejoiced in the fall of Tom Riddle. Nearly fourteen years later, he had returned. Hermione would allow herself to feel safe once another fourteen had passed. Six down, eight to go.  
  
True, the relationship between her and her parents had been strained for years prior to what would have been her seventh year at Hogwarts. The relationship between Muggle-borns and their parents was often one of "haves" and "have-nots", with the have-nots of the family growing envious of the abilities of their children. So much of her world was unknown to her parents; they would never be able to see Hogwarts, let alone visit, and many of her stories had gone completely over their heads. They had not known that she had been the target of a terrorist group since she was twelve years old. They didn't know that Transfiguration was more complex and difficult than Charms, or why ingredients mixed by them would fail to turn into a potion.  
  
As time went by, Hermione had spent more and more time with the Weasleys and less and less time with the Grangers. Now that she regretted. What different life might she have had if not for magic? She knew that her relationship with her parents would have been closer without it. She couldn't decide if magic was worth the price sometimes.  
  
She thought of Severus and all he had endured. She cried for her own selfishness in wanting to not love him; she would be his companion and his lover but love was still frightening. She cried for her own jealousy that she would always be second to a woman who had spent Hermione's entire life on a pedestal. When flesh and memory are compared, the memory always wins, and that was what Lily was now—a memory. It wasn't healthy to be in a relationship with someone like that, she knew that intellectually. She told herself as she cried that she was simply in too deep in this project (yes, call it a project) to back out without hurting a lot of people or betraying a lot of commitments. Severus had not trusted her easily or, really, willingly, and she would not betray that trust now. She considered it merely incidental that she felt more complete with him, both literally and figuratively, than ever before in her life.  
  
Hermione spent every other day of the year pushing these thoughts away. Tonight, a night she would have spent in the company of her own family rather than with eighteen other war orphans had the world been a little different, she allowed herself to drown in them.  
  
Severus found her curled up in a ball on the floor of the shower making noises he never wanted to hear from her. Anguish. Fear. Sadness. Despair. And on Christmas, too. In a flash he banished his clothing, knelt under the charmed rain, and wrapped his arms around her, cradling her to him.  
  
He said nothing to her, knowing that she hid in the shower to avoid the world. He knew she wanted to be alone, but did not think she should be. So he held her, rocked her, planted kisses on her head, brushed errant strands of hair from her face. Each movement was an act of reverence for the woman who had turned his life upside-down in a very short period of time.  
  
For a variety of reasons, Severus had built a wall around his heart over the past twenty-five years. The pain of losing Lily was too much, and the thought that anyone he allowed himself to love would be put in harm's way by being with him was enough to keep him from becoming even remotely involved with anyone else beyond a tiny handful of purely carnal encounters over the years (for he was only a man!). After the war, he was lost. Hermione kept telling him what an anchor he had been for the children, but really they had anchored him. They had given him a purpose and a focus and a goal. Severus thrived on achieving goals he had set for himself. By trying to help and heal them, he had been trying to help and heal himself.  
  
Then Hermione Granger had blustered in and changed everything. He had resisted it. He had fought it. Now, as he looked at the sobbing woman in his arms, the only thought that crossed his mind was, Thank God she did.  
  
The walls had begun to fall with her that night his Patronus had let her pass unfettered to comfort one of his terrified charges. Now there were almost none left. If she wanted to, she could break him completely. Not since Lily Evans had another person had such a hold on his life and his heart.  
  
Hermione had avoided responding to him, merely allowing him to hold her without a fight. After a long while, she wrapped her arms around him and nuzzled in close to him as rain fell down them both. Sniffling, she looked up into the eyes of her lover, and saw in his eyes such compassion and empathy she nearly wept again. He made her feel so cared for, yet she knew that it would only ever go so far. He said nothing but bent down to kiss her gently on the lips, once, before pulling her into a tighter embrace.  
  
"I miss them," she said finally, her voice hoarse. "Today I miss them."  
  
"I know."  
  
"Do you ever miss them?"  
  
He sighed, closed his eyes, and nodded. "Today I do."  
  
"I'm tempted to take you up on your offer," she whispered.  
  
"Don't decide tonight," he whispered.  
  
She shook her head. "No, I'm in a right state and would probably regret anything I said or did."  
  
"This from a Gryffindor—Christmas comes early for me this year," he said with a smirk.  
  
"You're teaching me bad habits," she muttered.  
  
"Teaching is ingrained in me, I'm afraid," he said. "Shall we?" She nodded. He extricated himself from her hold but, instead of standing up, wrapped his arms around her again and lifted her from the floor. Once he had her secured, he pressed a soft kiss to her lips.  
  
It occurred to him that if, fourteen years earlier, someone had told him that he would one day share a shower with Hermione Granger in Sirius Black's family home on Christmas Eve with Harry Potter and fifteen children of Death Eaters downstairs, he would never have believed it. He would have fought hard against it, done everything in his power to avoid it.  
  
What a fool he would have been.  
  
\-----------  
  
He slipped out late without waking Hermione up. She knew where he would be. She had wanted to come. He had said no.  
  
Donning his darkest coat, he slipped out the front door and Disapparated to Knockturn Alley, walked up to the ramshackle building, traced his wand in the correct pattern, and entered the brothel.  
  
"Mr. Snape," greeted Madam Lyudmila. She placed a kiss on each cheek, and he responded with the same, a convincing smirk on his face. "I have them all ready for you."  
  
"Just like last year?"  
  
"Just like every year."  
  
"Brilliant," he said, pressing a few coins in her hand. "For your trouble," he whispered.  
  
"No trouble for you, Mr. Snape," she tut-tutted, gesturing for him to go up the stairs. "Never for you." It was quiet tonight, mostly empty. Men with families or significant others would find it difficult to slink away tonight, but some still managed. Severus Snape was not most men.  
  
He had repeated this ritual every year, adding more girls to the list as he lost more of them to this horrible place. He reserved them all in advance, paying a premium to keep them "occupied" for the night, and visited each one in turn.  
  
He reached the first room, finding Brigita Rosier inside. Her watery smile greeted him and she fell into his arms. He led her to the bed and sat next to her, holding her while she wept and clung to him.  
  
Nobody should be alone on Christmas, least of all them.  
  
Material possessions never stayed with them for long in this place, he had learned. Stolen by either customers or bouncers or Madam Lyudmila herself, it was pointless to give them anything. He could not even leave them healing potions without risking it. He could only give them two things tonight: attention and freedom. He bought each girl her freedom for the night, and spent it with her. They would cry, talk, or just sit there, doing nothing, happy to be doing nothing.  
  
Each one was different, and he visited each one in turn, spending a good hour with each one. He regretted that it could not be more. Doing this as a group was not an option; they needed time alone with him, with his entire attention on them and them alone. Madam Lyudmila would only agree to six hours total. It was not enough, not nearly enough, but tonight it would have to be enough.  
  
"I'm sorry," Brigita whispered to him.  
  
"Not as sorry as I am," Severus whispered back. "I'm so sorry, Brigita."  
  
"You tried. I wasn't strong enough."  
  
"You shouldn't have had to be." He pulled her tighter against him as he felt her tears dampen his shirt. "I was supposed to keep you safe." He turned her in his arms and looked at her. "Brigita, if I could get you out of here, you know I would. Don't you? You know that, right?"  
  
She nodded. "I do. I know you're doing everything you can."  
  
He cringed at the resigned tone of her voice. No child this young should sound like that.  
  
"We'll find a way," he murmured. It was Christmas. He could allow himself to dream tonight.  
  
Flicking his wand, the sound of a distant chorus singing traditional carols hummed throughout the room.  
  
"Happy Christmas, Brigita."  
  
"Happy Christmas."  
  
Five and a half hours later, and exhausted Severus Snape crept back into Grimmauld Place, stripped to nothing but his pants, and wrapped himself around his witch, breathing in the scent of her hair.  
  
"How was it?"  
  
He shook his head, nuzzling deeper into her neck. "I don't want to talk about it."  
  
\-------  
  
On Christmas morning, they pretended he had not gone and merely picked up where they had left off the night before.  
  
"Severus?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"I've thought about it some more. My parents."  
  
"And?"  
  
"I… I can't do it."  
  
"Don't foreclose the idea for good."  
  
"No, I… I think I have to," she said sadly. "It's been seven years since I altered their memories and identities. That is nearly a decade in a new life, as a new self. If I came to them, with you in tow, and undid that… wouldn't it be traumatic for them?"  
  
"Well, if done properly—"  
  
"And what of their minds?" Hermione pressed on. "They have decades' worth of false memories, and hidden away are decades' worth of true memories. If they are suddenly pulled together, wouldn't that harm them? Would their minds be able to handle that?"  
  
"If done by a trained Legilimens—"  
  
"And," Hermione continued, "wouldn't it be terribly selfish of me? Would they even want a relationship with me anymore? Their daughter giveth and taketh away their lives with the flick of a wand. She could do it again, couldn't she, if she were angry? She could do it just as easily with a malicious intent as with a benevolent one. And what else could she do to them?"  
  
"Hermione…"  
  
"You know I'm right, don't you? I know we could bring them back, but for their sake, I really don't know if we should."  
  
Severus considered this. There were ways of retrieving long-lost memories, particularly in those whose identities had been altered. But Hermione did have a point—the longer one waited, the greater the risk of serious damage by doing so.  
  
"Hermione… are you saying all of this because you truly are concerned for their well-being, or are you merely avoiding a potentially unpleasant confrontation?"  
  
She shook her head. "For many years, that was the reason, and you made me think long and hard about it. But… they have their life now, and I'm not in it. I waited too long and I think more harm than good would come of it. I regret it so… so much." Her voice began to waver. "It's a regret I will have to live with for the rest of my life."  
  
"I know a thing or two about regret," Severus said softly. "I do not want to see you waste your life that way."  
  
"I wouldn't either," she said sadly. "But… you know I'm right, don't you? You have no idea what it means to me that you would try to help, but… I think I owe it to them to give them peace and security. Though," she added, her voice more steady, "I would like to go see them. Someday, when my presence is not needed here as much, I will go to Australia and see them, with my own eyes. From a distance."  
  
"Is that enough?"  
  
She sighed. "It will have to be."  
  
"The door is never closed on this, Hermione," Severus said. "Not ever. Even if you and I should… though I do not intend us to… but if we were to… I would still be at your service."  
  
She pulled him into a deep kiss. "And that, Severus Snape, is why I love you."  
  
She gasped and pulled away from him as soon as she had said it.  
  
Love?  
  
_Love?_  
  
She froze.  
  
He froze.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made one revision to the story in this update that did not appear in the original 2011 publication. I have regretted from the day I posted that chapter that I did not describe the horribly ugly Christmas sweater that Harry was wearing, and Severus's revulsion about it, and so I have decided to fix that.


	19. Expecto Patronum!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Has Severus never told you why he joined the Death Eaters?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter features a footnote. When you see (1), skim down to the very end to read it. Or wait until you reach the end anyway. Whatever suits.

Hermione's mouth was full of sawdust. She tried to swallow but couldn't. Her hands were clammy. And she had an intense, wrenching feeling that she had just ruined everything.  
  
What does one say after one ruins everything? At present, the best Hermione seemed to be able to come up with was, "Er…"  
  
Severus was no help. He just stared at her, black eyes wider than usual, his face expressionless.  
  
"I, er…"  
  
Could they ever go back?  
  
"I…"  
  
Severus closed his eyes and seemed to be calming himself before speaking.  
  
"Uh…"  
  
He opened his eyes and met hers again. "Hermione…" And she knew, she just _knew_ , that he was about to reject her.  
  
"Please," she whispered. "I'm… I'm sorry. Just forget…"  
  
"How can I forget?" His face was still a mask.  
  
"I wish you would…" she said in a small voice.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"W-why? Because you're… because you can't… because we…" She huffed a breath and attempted to compose herself. "Because of your Patronus."  
  
"What about it?"  
  
"It's still a doe."  
  
"And what on earth does that have to do with anything?"  
  
"I… are you going to make me spell it out? I'd rather we just…"  
  
"Just?"  
  
"Severus, please!" she hissed. "I'm sorry I said anything, I'm sorry I complicated this, I'm just… I'm sorry."  
  
She snatched her dressing gown off one of the armchairs and pulled it on hastily.  
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
She just shook her head and made for the door. But Severus was quicker. He grabbed her arm and asked her again, "Where are you going?"  
  
She shook her head. "My room. My old room. I can't stay in here."  
  
"Please don't go."  
  
"It hurts!" she spat. "It hurts. I can't… it hurts."  
  
"Hermione," Severus said softly. "Come sit with me."  
  
She let him lead her to the bed, where he sat her down on the edge and knelt down in front of her, taking her hands in his.  
  
"Your sentiment is unexpected," he said, "and I confess that it was not a declaration I ever expected to hear from you."  
  
"Please…"  
  
"But it is not unwelcome," he said.  
  
"Oh, well, 'not unwelcome,' high praise indeed," Hermione said sarcastically. She felt so humiliated. "I'm glad to hear that."  
  
"Hermione!" he said sharply. "Please, this is… this is difficult for me too."  
  
"Can't you just reject me and get this over with?"  
  
"No."  
  
"I can't—"  
  
"You feelings are not unreciprocated!"  
  
Her watery eyes met his. "What?"  
  
"I said… I reciprocate your feelings."  
  
She closed her eyes and shook her head. "Don't tease me."  
  
"I'm not," he said, sounding offended. "I'm serious."  
  
"So… you do?"  
  
He nodded.  
  
"Say it," she pleaded, knowing she sounded like such a silly girl but not caring. "I need to hear you say it. Please."  
  
Clearing his throat, he met her eyes and said slowly and deliberately, "Hermione Granger… I love you."  
  
"I love you too," she whispered. "But I don't understand… the doe…"  
  
"Is not a symbol of my love for Lily, contrary to popular opinion, such as it is." Severus, of course, used the term 'popular opinion' quite liberally here. Only Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Dumbledore knew of the doe, and all had drawn the same conclusion.  
  
"It's not?"  
  
He shook his head. "I thought you knew already. I would have expected you to know about it. Perhaps I still have things to teach you after all." He smirked. She smacked him playfully on the arm.  
  
"In my one year teaching Defence, I studied much about Patronuses, more than I had ever done in the past. I have continued to do so in what little spare time I have in recent months because the phenomenon puzzled me too. Yes, Patronuses can change in relation to unrequited love. But the phenomenon is very rare. Patronuses are guardians, reflections of the very essence of the person casting it. A Patronus would hardly be reflective of the person casting it if it changes based on the whim of a person's fleeting, changing desire. It would be a poor source of identification. Many wizards and witches can cast them, and all who do have the capacity for love, but very few change based on the object of one's affection. People who long for others find their Patronuses changing, not those who truly love."  
  
"Okay…" Hermione wasn't sure where he was going with this. A doe reflected Severus's character about as well as a bat reflected hers. It had been Lily's Patronus, there was no denying that. It was a symbol of Lily and she knew it and she knew he knew it. She too had read up on Patronuses, since it was still the spell that gave her the most trouble. Apparently she had not read enough.  
  
"Have you not noticed, Hermione, that one's Patronus changes with regard to the kind of one-sided love that invites pain, not reciprocal, mutual love? Has Harry's Patronus changed to match his wife's? Has hers changed to match his?"  
  
She shook her head. Harry was still a stag, Ginny a horse.  
  
"Do you doubt their love for each other?"  
  
She shook her head again. No. Harry and Ginny were completely and utterly mad for each other.  
  
"What about Luna and," he sneered, "Longbottom?"  
  
"No," she whispered. Luna was still a rabbit, Neville a toad.  
  
"Do you doubt their commitment to each other?"  
  
"No." They might not be married, and maybe never would be (marriage didn't seem to be Luna's style), but Hermione knew that their love was deep and eternal and that their relationship was likely permanent.  
  
Severus aimed his wand at the wall and said, " _Expecto Patronum!_ " Out burst the silver doe, prancing around the room before coming up to Hermione to nuzzle her cheek.  
  
"I used to think of Lily when I cast it," he said softly. "It was always a weak Patronus, but it worked. I assumed, as you did, that it was reflective of her, and for many years I believe it was. Do you know what I think of to summon it now?" Hermione shook her head. "I think of you reading out loud to the children, freely and lovingly and without judgment, that first night. I think of that and the doe bursts forth stronger than it ever did before. It made no sense to me, either. How could I summon her Patronus when I think of you?  
  
"My Patronus changed because Lily never loved me, and hasn't changed again because you _do_. I think she symbolises love in general, not just Lily. For whatever reason, my screwed-up mind associates the doe with love. It has to, for I have not thought of her in months when summoning her. Only you." He gave a wry smile. "The doe is a part of me now, reflective of me, and while I would prefer something less effeminate, I have as much control over that as the next wizard, which is none.  
  
"Now cast yours," he said. She shook her head; she was not in the right emotional state to summon a Patronus.  
  
"You can do it," he whispered. He got off the floor and came behind her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her back close to his chest. He placed her wand in her hand and wrapped his hand around it. "Do you remember our trip to the sea on your birthday?" He kissed the top of her head. "Our first night together?" He kissed her cheek. "Holding each other last night in the shower?" He kissed her neck.  
  
She nodded tearfully.  
  
"How did all of that make you feel?"  
  
"L-loved."  
  
"Cast your Patronus." His voice was soft and encouraging.  
  
She sighed and brought forth the memories he had mentioned. With his hand wrapped around hers, they spoke the incantation and made the wand movement together.  
  
" _Expecto Patronum!_ "  
  
Out burst her otter, her beautiful otter, that had been her Patronus her entire life. It was as much a part of her now as anything. It swam in mid-air around them both in playful circles.  
  
"You see, Hermione, when people are in a committed, complete relationship, they do not need to obsess over the other person to the point that it consumes them. That is what changes a Patronus—an all-consuming longing for another. It colours everything about them. But a true relationship, a true love, leaves a Patronus unchanged." He wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder. "My Patronus is unchanged, as is yours, because this, us, is real," he whispered. "I told you that I do not give my loyalty or heart out freely, Hermione. I meant that. Lily will always be a part of me, as I told you, but that does not mean that I have no capacity to love another, particularly one who loves me. It is more than I deserve and not something I will give up lightly."  
  
She turned and wrapped her arms around him. "I love you," she whispered.  
  
"Tell me every day," he implored her.  
  
She nodded. "Every day." She hummed in contentment. "You know something? You can really be a romantic fool when you want to."  
  
"I'm not romantic."  
  
"If you say so." She knew that she, and only she, knew the real Severus, the one buried beneath layers upon layers and years upon years of defences. When one got down to it, he was human, one who gave and received love just as any other.  
  
What a shame that this was the Wizarding World's best-kept secret.(1)  
  
\---------  
  
Severus was not a materialistic person and never had been. For many years it was due to the fact that his family simply did not have the means to provide him with many possessions, so he learned to do without. During the wars and his time as a spy it was impractical to form any attachment to any person or any thing, since they could (and often would) slip away from him in the blink of an eye. After the war… it had simply become a habit for him to neither seek nor retain possessions.  
  
With this background he found himself bewildered at the reactions of the children. Hermione had finagled a donation of sweets and goods from the Weasleys' shop, just a few things, probably not enough for an adequate Christmas morning for the average child, but these children… well, their experiences had been different. True, many had come from old Wizarding money, but that had been many years ago, before most of them could remember, and all they had known were empty Christmases that Severus had usually chosen not to mention.  
  
At first they were confused—who had brought them? What were they for? What would they have to do in exchange? Ever the little Slytherins, Severus thought. Looking for the catch. It took quite a bit of convincing from Hermione and Luna to coax them into accepting them and enjoying them. At first they held the parcels gingerly, not entirely trusting the sentiment. Then, after a nod from Severus, they had cautiously opened them. They just looked at the presents, not making a sound, contemplating what they had received. And then they allowed themselves to begin to enjoy them, slowly, cautiously. Before long, the house was loud with the sounds of fifteen children enjoying their gifts on Christmas morning.  
  
Severus watched them act and interact as normal children would, and thought back to a year earlier, before a certain bushy-haired witch and her dim-witted folk hero friend had barged into his office with delusions of saving both him and the children. How he had disparaged them, how he had hated them for it. He knew the shortcomings of his work and did not appreciate them being pointed out. He never dreamed that, with their help, things could have changed so much.  
  
It gave Severus reason enough to feel a small bit of hope for the future, which was the greatest gift he could have received.  
  
"Miss Granger?" Leopold whispered. He had come over to where she was sitting closely, but not too closely, to Mr. Snape on the settee (who did these two think they were fooling anyway?). Maybe he could help too. He seemed to know what girls liked. But no. He couldn't ask him.  
  
"I have to talk to you," he said urgently. Hermione nodded and gestured for the opposite corner of the room.  
  
"What's wrong?" she asked in a whisper.  
  
"I… I got a gift from someone, but I didn't get them anything," he said in a strained whisper.  
  
Hermione gave him a soft smile. "Oh, Leopold, don't worry. People don't give gifts in the expectation of receiving something in return. They give because they want to."  
  
"I do want to!" he whispered. "But I couldn't get her anything, and now she's given me something, and…"  
  
Comprehension dawned in Hermione's eyes. "This is a pretty special friend, isn't it?" He nodded. It took all her self-control not to break into a grin and hug this little boy in celebration of his first love. He might be a Gryffindor but was enough of a Slytherin to not enjoy something like that. So she calmed herself. "You know who might be able to help you?" He shook his head. "Mr. Snape. He's… well, he might understand what you're going through better than I."  
  
Leopold shook his head again. Talking to Snape was hard enough on a good day. After the words they'd exchanged yesterday… no, he couldn't.  
  
Hermione nodded. "I promise."  
  
He still shook his head violently. "Would you prefer if I ask him for you?" He nodded. "Alright, I'll do so."  
  
Hermione padded over to the settee and sat a bit closer to Severus than she had before, a small smile upon her face. He lifted his arm so that it was along the top of the settee and behind her back but not quite touching her. Propriety was important, even if it was a farce and everyone in the room knew it. Especially Longbottom, smirking at him from across the room. Severus ignored him and looked instead at Hermione and raised an eyebrow in question. She leaned in just a bit to whisper.  
  
"Leopold has a bit of a girl trouble," she whispered before reaching a hand to his arm to still him after it looked like his eyes were about to pop out of his head, and launched into an explanation of the boy's predicament.  
  
"I see," he said, not meeting her eyes.  
  
"Has this ever happened to any of them?"  
  
Severus shook his head. "Not that I'm aware of. I do think that if it had it might have helped them in the past. The love of a friend… well, it can keep a lost little boy from doing stupid things, as long as he can hold her affection."  
  
Hermione knew he saw himself in Leopold and that he knew the power of a friendship (or love) like this, both its beauty and its danger.  
  
"So what do you suggest?" she asked him.  
  
He shrugged. "I was once in this position with Lily. First year. I had nothing for her and she had given me a gift. It was a blank book, a diary, and I used it as a sketch book."  
  
"You draw?"  
  
"I did," he replied, and quickly added, "And no, you may not see my work."  
  
"Pity. You have an artist's hands. I bet you're good at it."  
  
He shrugged. "Anyway, I had nothing for her in return. I hated myself for it. The next year I set about rectifying it. I saved a bit of money each month and bought her a scarf. She wore it every day, even after… well, she wore it a lot."  
  
Hermione dared to reach her hand to his knee and rubbed circles on it lightly.  
  
"Merlin, Hermione, there are children right there!"  
  
"So?"  
  
"It's a very erogenous spot for me."  
  
"Your knee?" He nodded. "Really?" He gave her one of his trademark looks. "Interesting. I never knew that. Is that common knowledge?"  
  
"May we change the subject?"  
  
She removed her hand. "So what do we tell him to do?" Their eyes moved to the little sand-haired boy in the corner, talking to his sister.  
  
"He'll send her a heartfelt thank you note via owl today," Severus said slowly. "And then he and I will brainstorm a way to reciprocate."  
  
Hermione nodded. "I still hope you'll show me some of your drawings someday," she said. "You're such a pack rat; I know you still have them somewhere."  
  
He refused to respond.  
  
\---------  
  
Boxing day found a brown-haired witch and her grandson standing in a foggy London square. Andromeda Tonks stood clutching the small piece of parchment in one hand and her grandson's tiny hand in her other. The parchment revealed an address that she had known very well, but now that it was Secret-Kept she couldn't find it on her own.  
  
She had been very hesitant to come to Grimmauld Place again. It reminded her of too many painful things. She thought of Sirius, who had been more of a sibling to her than her own sisters, and Regulus, who had grown up here. She thought of her aunt Walburga, the hateful woman who had blasted her off the family tree. She thought of her sisters and the monsters they had married, the twisted beings they had become. Andromeda thought of her husband and daughter and son-in-law, whom she had lost all in the space of three months. She looked down at her teal-haired grandson, who grinned up at her, his front tooth missing. This was why she was still alive, why she hadn't taken her own life after everyone and everything she had ever loved was taken from her. This little boy, this beautiful little boy, was who she lived for now.  
  
And now she had brought him here. She hadn't wanted to, but Harry had been very convincing. He loved his godson very much, and spent most weekends visiting him at least once, usually with his own son in tow. Harry would never, ever put the boy in any danger, and would be here the entire time. So even though Andromeda had her hesitations and legitimate reasons for wanting to stay away, she trusted Harry. If Harry said that Teddy would enjoy it here, then Teddy would probably enjoy it here.  
  
Teddy, for his part, tore away from her as soon as he reached the door and saw his godfather. Teddy had the same fearlessness that Nymphadora had at his age—take off at the slightest enticement, not watch where he was going and—crash, trip over himself and fall to the floor. Laughing all the while. Yes, the boy had a lot of his mother in him.  
  
He was as kind and forgiving and accepting as Remus had been, in the short time Andromeda had known him. She had been hesitant about her son-in-law at first—aside from the fact that he was a werewolf and unemployed, he was also thirteen years older than her daughter and they had been married rather quickly. When he left Nymphadora only weeks after their marriage, leaving her pregnant and alone, Andromeda had been sure that her instincts about him had been correct. When Remus came back, Andromeda refused to let him in. Her husband was on the run and her daughter was depressed and there was a baby on the way. She only relented at her daughter's insistence. Nymphadora had welcomed him back with open arms, and told her mother that he was a good man, who left only for their own protection. Remus had fallen to his knees and pressed his head against his wife's swollen belly, pleading for her forgiveness, swearing never to leave her again, that he would be the father his child deserved. He had been so afraid to love his entire life, and with Nymphadora he allowed himself to do so.  
  
According to those who had witnessed it, Remus and Nymphadora had died fighting side-by-side, holding hands.  
  
Stupid fools never should have left their son to fight. No matter the cause. But it was too late for those regrets.  
  
Andromeda understood that war made good men do bad things for good reasons. Her son-in-law was one of those. Her husband was one of those. Harry Potter was one of those.  
  
And so, too, was Severus Snape.  
  
Andromeda knew precisely who killed her husband and daughter and son-in-law: her sister Bellatrix and Antonin Dolohov. Now her grandson, her only remaining link to both of them, was with Harry in the attic playing with Dolohov's son and Bellatrix's niece and nephew. She knew, rationally, that these children were not their parents (how often had she stood alone in her bedroom telling herself over and over, "You are not like them!") and she knew, academically, that with Harry by Teddy's side he would come to no harm no matter who else was around.  
  
Still, she couldn't help but feel that Severus, too, was a good man doing a bad thing by caring for these children, albeit for a good reason.  
  
\---------  
  
Hermione had not had much interaction with Andromeda Tonks since the war, and none before it, but found herself sitting beside the older witch and watching Teddy Lupin play with the Death Eaters' children.  
  
"I can't even imagine…" she said.  
  
Andromeda shook her head. "Don't try."  
  
"I'm glad you brought him here," Hermione said softly. "He's a good boy and these really are good children. They're not their parents, you know."  
  
Andromeda nodded. "I know that. Still… it reminds me."  
  
Hermione nodded. "I'm sure." She sighed. "To be around the children of the people who killed your parents… I hope he doesn't know. For now, anyway."  
  
Andromeda shook her head. "He doesn't, and he won't. I don't know if I'll bring him back here, but it was important to Harry, and Harry is important to Teddy, and I trust Harry's judgment." She smiled a bit. "Someday he will know and understand. But I won't have it happening while he is so young."  
  
"I wish he never had to learn," Hermione said softly. "Suppose they become friends, what would that do to him? Even if they don't but see each other at Hogwarts—can you imagine what that would be like? Walking the halls knowing that the people who live with you under this same roof are the children of the people who killed your parents?" She turned to the older woman. "God, Andromeda, we never should have brought him here, should we? I'm so sorry."  
  
Andromeda shook her head. "Teddy is so forgiving. He gets it from his mother, who forgave Remus for leaving her. He gets it from his father, who forgave the world at large for all the wrongs it wrought on him. And he gets it from his godfather. I don't see him holding a grudge. And if he does, I hope Severus will talk to him about it."  
  
Hermione looked at her quizzically. "Severus? Why?"  
  
"His experience is closest to Teddy's."  
  
"What… you mean Severus went through something similar?  
  
Andromeda nodded. "Has he… has he never told you why he joined up with the Death Eaters?"  
  
Hermione shook her head. It was a topic the two of them never, ever discussed. He didn't want to open up about it, and she did not want to ask. Independently she had constructed a narrative that made sense to her: Severus had been ostracised both in his House (a half-blood Slytherin never had an easy go of it, let alone one from humble origins) and out (hated at first sight by the Gryffindor Marauders and resented by the Ravenclaws). He had come from a home with little love and even less affection. He was brilliant but his talents were not recognised by others. The Death Eaters gave him a sense of purpose, a place to belong. They gave him the power and protection he had desperately needed and never had. He was an impoverished half-blood in a world where wealthy purebloods reigned supreme, and he had been offered a seat at the table. Sometimes it seemed better to join up with the devil than remain in his path.  
  
That had made sense to her. But suddenly it seemed that this was not the whole story, if it was the story at all.  
  
"What happened?" Hermione asked finally, trying not to sound too shocked or too desperate to know. Part of her knew that she shouldn't ask; if Severus wanted her to know, Severus would tell her. But curiosity got the better of her, as it always did, and she asked anyway.  
  
"His parents were killed by Aurors," Andromeda said softly.  
  
"What… why? His father was a Muggle, and from what I know of his mother she doesn't seem like the type who would have been involved in—"  
  
"They weren't," Andromeda cut her off. "That was the tragedy of it all. Lord Mulciber had come to see Eileen and Tobias about something, there was a price on his head, an Auror tailed them there, and took out both Mulciber and the two 'Death Eater sympathisers' who were found with him." She sighed sadly. "It was a terrible event. Aurors had the power to cast Unforgivables and were given wide berth. It was a terrible, dark, frightening time. Innocent people were killed in the war, but very few by the Ministry's hand. The authority of the Ministry was hanging by a thread, and they could not afford to be seen making any mistakes. They had to be on the side of good, no matter what. The Ministry, not wanting to appear weak, brushed the whole thing under the rug."  
  
Hermione thought she might be sick.  
  
"I knew Severus at school," Andromeda continued. "His family might not have been long on affection, and he might have been neglected, and his circumstances might have been meagre, and he may have hated his father, but make no mistake—that boy loved his mother."  
  
 _That would explain it all_ , Hermione thought. The more pain a subject brought, the more Severus avoided it. He had never, ever, not once, mentioned his mother, just as he had never, ever, mentioned Lily to Harry.  
  
"How old was he?"  
  
"I believe it was in the summer after his sixth year," Andromeda said sadly. "He had been in a gang of pro-Dark Lord Slytherins in his fifth year but had largely shied away from them by then. I'm still not sure why. But after this… after seeing what happened to his parents, the reaction of the Ministry, the lack of support the school gave him, he decided that he could not do this anymore. He could not count on the Light for any protection against anything. He did the only thing he could do—he joined the only organization that could have a chance at making these people pay for what they did. Even though he hated its mission and its methods, it had the one thing that Slytherins respect more than anything: Power. And he desperately needed a powerful sponsor."  
  
Hermione was lost for words, and could only muster the most minute shaking of her head.  
  
War certainly did have a way of making good men do bad things for good reasons.  
  
\--------  
  
Teddy Lupin didn't seem so bad to Leopold. True, he had Hufflepuff written all over him, and it was strange how his hair kept changing colours like a mood ring, but he was friendly and didn't judge any of them and made Ermengarde laugh. Clara looked a bit like that when she laughed.  
  
Clara…  
  
She had given him a small box filled with a few Chocolate Frogs for Christmas. Nothing big, nothing expensive, but enough to make Leopold smile. No one had ever sent him, and him alone, a gift before.  
  
Clara was special. She didn't know who he was and liked him, sought out his company. He didn't want to screw this up. Leopold knew very little about girls, but gathered that they enjoyed presents. So… what present could he get her?  
  
He looked down at his Chocolate Frog cards. He had got Mr. Longbottom (he sure used to be chubby, hadn't he?), Headmistress McGonagall (she stood so still and prim Leopold thought for a moment that this was a Muggle photo), and Miss Lovegood (who stared vacantly and pointed vaguely to something outside the frame). He remembered his first time exchanging cards with Clara, who had introduced the idea to him, and how she had given him the Snape card. He still had it in his trunk. She seemed to like the cards.  
  
He wondered…  
  
He left the attic and made his way to the bedroom he shared with Ermengarde. He opened his trunk and carefully unwrapped the card from the folds of his red and gold Gryffindor scarf. The Snape on the card took one look at Leopold, sneered, and stalked out of the frame. Leopold kept it only because it was from her. He didn't really want to part with the card, but if doing so would make Clara happy, he would be happy to do it.  
  
Leopold climbed back into the attic and found Mr. Snape. Snape alternated between casting nervous glances toward Miss Granger and Mrs. Tonks and monitoring the other children. Sensing that there would probably never be a "good" time to ask, he decided there was no time like the present. Hiding the card under his palm, he approached Snape as confidently as he dared.  
  
"Can I talk to you?"  
  
Severus quirked an eyebrow.  
  
"Please, it's important. It's about… _her._ "  
  
Severus nodded and followed the boy down the stairs and to the landing on the third floor. "Well?" he said, trying to show indifference and impatience.  
  
Leopold steadied himself and, without preamble, launched into his request. When he finished, Severus was staring daggers at him.  
  
"Absolutely not," he said.  
  
"Please, I know she would like it, it's something unique that I can give her, and, well, it won't cost anyone anything."  
  
"No," Severus said, and turned to climb the stairs back into the attic.  
  
"Miss Granger said you would understand!" he protested. That stopped Severus in his tracks, but he did not turn around. "She said that you have been in this position before and that you could help me."  
  
She was right, of course. In Leopold and his friend, he saw himself and Lily at that age. A lonely boy desperate to please and impress his best friend, a pretty girl, the girl he loved already at such a tender age. The girl who could have stopped his descent into the darkness, had she been in his life for just a little bit longer.  
  
Perhaps Leopold would succeed where Severus failed.  
  
God but Hermione would be the death of him someday!  
  
Cursing himself for allowing his feelings dictate his actions, he turned around and gave Leopold a fierce look and a curt nod. Without a word, he took the card from Leopold, pressed it against the wall, and signed his name under the photo with his wand.  
  
He hated that he was on these infernal things. It romanticised his accomplishments and downplayed the negative parts of his past. The picture on the card was of a man who died in that boathouse, a man he no longer recognised. The Snape in the picture locked eyes with the Severus in the flesh. The Snape in the picture looked older, angrier, more tired, less loved than he knew he looked today. What had made the difference? The shorter hair? Different clothing? Taking care of them? But that was much more challenging than in his old life, with much less hope for success, with failure staring him in the face every day. Was it the patronage of Harry and his friends, who had all fully committed themselves to helping these children as much as he had? Was it the fact that time and distance had separated him from this old life? Was this what happened to everyone who lived after they should have died?  
  
He knew what Albus would have said. He would have said that it was because now, Severus spent his nights in the arms of a woman who loved him, whom he loved back, and to whom he was committed. Albus would accuse him of caring for the children, rather than merely taking care of them (and yes, there was a difference), which is what kept him young. Love, real love, in multiple forms, was what Albus would credit to this.  
  
He handed the boy back the card, who accepted it without a word, his eyes alight with hope.  
  
"Miss Lovegood's owl is, I believe, in the ground floor sitting room," Severus said nonchalantly, and left to go up the stairs.  
  
He heard Leopold's little feet rush down the stairs and couldn't suppress the small smirk that crept across his face as he wished the boy luck. Merlin knew he was going to need it.  
  
\-------  
  
That night, hours after Andromeda and Teddy had left with the promise to visit again, Hermione curled up close to Severus, hugged him a little tighter than she would normally, and took a deep breath, inhaling his scent. He held her just as tightly, no words passing between them.  
  
He was an exceptional man. To have been hurt so much in his life, by so many, in so many ways, and yet still have the capacity to help raise more than two dozen orphaned children and find room in his heart to love her as well… it was overwhelming.  
  
"I can hear you thinking," he whispered.  
  
She chuckled. "Yes, I suppose you can."  
  
"I would never do that to you, Hermione," he said seriously. "Not without your permission."  
  
She smiled. "Thanks."  
  
He kissed her forehead. "Do you want to talk about it?"  
  
She shook her head. "Just hold me."  
  
He complied.  
  
"Have I told you today that I love you?" she asked.  
  
He smiled in the dark and she pretended that she couldn't tell. "I think you'd better tell me again."  
  
"I love you." She punctuated each word with a kiss on his chest.  
  
"And I you," he whispered. He hummed with contentment and shut his eyes. "Tell me again tomorrow."  
  
"I'll tell you every day," she said. She would. He hadn't heard it enough in his life. She couldn't make up for that, but she could try. "Every day." _For the rest of my life._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) Now I can already hear some of you saying, "You wait just a minute, Amarti! If only unrequited love triggers a change in your Patronus, then how do you explain Lily's doe? It matched James's stag, and their love was absolutely not unrequited! Plot hole! A plot hole, I say!" Well, Severus and Hermione were going to discuss this, but their conversation took on a life of its own and I couldn't get them to go back to the subject without it being horribly forced and awkward and completely disrupting the flow. So here goes: I think Lily's Patronus was a doe in its own right, and would have been even if she hadn't married James. Notice that it wasn't the same as James's, it was a complementary one. I like to think it symbolizes how well-suited they truly were for each other. The two characters whose Patronuses changed in canon (Tonks and Severus) had ones identical to their loved ones, and both times the feelings were unreciprocated at the time. Therefore, I think Lily's was already a doe before she and James got together. Capiche? That's my take on it, anyway.


	20. Street Rat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Malfoy?" she asked again, but Draco did nothing but sneer at her. "Malfoy, what happened to you?"
> 
> Draco snorted. "What happened to me? You and your friends, Granger."

"You look tired, mate," Harry said.  
  
Ron Weasley shrugged. "Mum's been a bit run down lately. More than usual. Christmas is a difficult time for her anyway, but this year was worse."  
  
Harry nodded. They were sitting in the kitchen at Harry's house one Saturday morning shortly after the New Year. He and Ginny and James had spent Christmas day at the Burrow but Molly had been nowhere in sight. Ginny was getting worried.  
  
"Is there anything…?"  
  
Ron shook his head. "Nothing for it, not unless you can take us back seven years and keep my brother out of the fighting and the rest of us out of the war, her included."  
  
"Like she wouldn't have fought," Harry said.  
  
"I know. She finds it hard to forgive herself for what she did, yet she also would never forgive herself for not doing it." Ron was referring to the killing curse Molly had fired at Bellatrix during the battle. Hardened and tough as Molly Weasley was, and as red-blooded as she became when one of her children was threatened, taking a life always affected a person. The strain of _Avada Kedavra_ along with losing a child and coming perilously close to losing the others was, well, more than the average witch or wizard would be able to bear.  
  
"Ginny wants to help, Ron, but every time she tries to see her your mum shuts her out."  
  
Ron shrugged. "I tried to keep her from finding out what you and Hermione have been doing, but she demanded to know why you left the Auror office and what you were doing instead and when she heard it was for… _their_ children… I think she lost it a bit."  
  
Harry looked away. _To think that he had a hand in any of this…_  
  
"Don't do that, mate," Ron said firmly. "You haven't done anything wrong."  
  
He shook his head. "Your mum is the closest thing to a mother I've ever known, Ron. Is there nothing we can do?"  
  
Ron shook his head. "Take care of my sister, mate, that's the best thing you can do."  
  
\-------  
  
Severus had threatened to hex her if she acknowledged his birthday in any way, but Hermione called his bluff and ventured to Flourish and Blotts. She found what she came for, purchased it, and shrunk it to fit in her pocket.  
  
She had toyed with the idea of slipping over to Knockturn Alley to visit the girls, but the flash of a photographer's camera as she stepped out of the book shop made the decision for her. Severus had told her not to go anywhere near the graduates, and she was rudely reminded why. If she was seen at all in Knockturn Alley, particularly there, it would attract attention she did not want. Glaring at the photographer, who just grinned, winked, and Apparated away, she turned quickly and made her way to the Leaky to floo back to Grimmauld.  
  
Hermione was halfway there when she nearly tripped over what looked like a mass of dirty rags in the street.  
  
It was a man, Hermione could tell, and for a fleeting moment thought it might be Mundungus Fletcher, but on closer inspection it was someone taller, thinner, and much younger. The man was sitting up and spouting off swear words. She could smell the alcohol on his breath. His bleach blonde hair was longer and stringier than she had ever seen it. His face was gaunt and his eyes bloodshot. His skin was almost as grey as his irises. She gasped as she recognised the man and he, in exchange, stilled and gaped at her.  
  
"Malfoy?" Hermione said finally.  
  
Draco Malfoy flinched; clearly she had said the name too loudly and he did not seem to want to attract attention. Never mind that he was sleeping in one of the busiest alleys in Wizarding Britain, if not the busiest, on a Saturday morning. Perhaps he had passed out there. Given the amount of alcohol she smelled on his breath, that was not out of the realm of possibility.  
  
The Malfoy family had fallen hard and fast after the war. Narcissa's lie to the Dark Lord at the last minute had exonerated from any wrongdoing officially, but much of the Wizarding World believed them to be guilty, something with which Hermione had once agreed. She had been tortured within an inch of her life at Malfoy Manor, and none of the Malfoys had done anything to stop it or lessen it. In fact, they seemed to wholeheartedly support it. Harry said that Draco appeared to have tried to help them by refusing to confirm that Harry was there at first, and Hermione supposed that he could have immediately named Harry, that Lucius would have called the Dark Lord then, and that would have been the end of everything—for them, for the Order, and for the Wizarding World. Malfoy's _Expelliarmis_ bought him the Elder Wand's allegiance and eventually allowed Harry to master it at the crucial moment.  
  
Really, she supposed, they owed Draco Malfoy more than they would ever care to admit. And here he was, on the street.  
  
"Malfoy?" she asked again, but Draco did nothing but sneer at her. "Malfoy, what happened to you?"  
  
Draco snorted. "What happened to me? You and your friends, Granger." Well, at least he wasn't calling her a Mudblood; that was progress. She hoped that the time for such epithets had passed in that world, though she was not naïve enough to expect long-held prejudices to disappear overnight. Probably their generation would have to pass before it would truly be gone.  
  
"I should help you get home," Hermione said tentatively.  
  
"You should take that bushy head and buck-toothed face of yours and go back where you came from," he spat. He struggled to his feet and began to stagger away. "Just leave me the hell alone."  
  
Hermione wondered if he didn't have a place to go home to. She had heard that the Manor was razed by the Ministry a couple of years ago to avoid anyone constructing a shrine to either Voldemort or the Death Eaters, and the rest of their property had been confiscated to pay for war reparations. Perhaps they had nowhere else to go after that.  
  
"Draco," Hermione called after him tentatively. He continued walking, so she sighed and followed after him. She did not know what made her do it. Years of mutual loathing should make her revel in the schadenfreude and do nothing more for him. Still, she thought about what he had done for their sakes; he might not have done many overt acts to help them, but what he had done had been enough. She thought of Severus's graduates, many of whom seemed to live the same way. She could hold onto a petty grudge, but then how would that make her any different from those who castigated the children she was now devoting her life to caring for? She couldn't just let him go.  
  
"Draco," she said again, softly, catching up to him and taking his arm. "You need help. Let me help you. Please."  
  
"I'm not a bloody house-elf," he spat, tearing his arm out of her grip.  
  
Hermione sighed. Never mind that she had been part of the Golden Trio, never mind that she currently held the record for highest grade average at Hogwarts in its entire thousand year history, and never mind that she had helped bring down Voldemort more than just about anyone else, second only to Harry, Dumbledore, and Severus. When she died, her alliterative epitaph would read: _Here lies Hermione, Helper of House-Elves_. Oh well, there were worse things to be remembered for.  
  
"I know that, but please, let me help you."  
  
"I don't need your help, I don't need your time, and I don't need your fucking pity, Granger!" he nearly shouted. Draco clearly had not lost his pride, and she could see that it hurt him to be recognised by her. Clearly he had not meant to stay in Diagon Alley overnight, and he only wanted to get away.  
  
Well, if he wasn't going to do what was best for him, she was going to make him. Grabbing his arm again, this time more tightly, she thought of the topmost step of Grimmauld Place and Disapparated with him. Severus had added her to the Fidelius charm as a secret-keeper in case of an emergency or, as he put it, "in the event of my death." She only hoped that he wouldn't be too upset. She knew that he had always had a soft spot for the boy, that his protectionism hadn't been entirely a byproduct of his work as a spy and his need to favour the children of Death Eaters. She didn't expect him to admit as much, but she suspected that he would be grateful that she had found him and sought protection for him.  
  
"What the bloody hell have you done?" Draco hissed angrily. "Let go of me. You had no right to Apparate me anywhere!"  
  
"Malfoy, shut up and come inside," she hissed. If he was going to be a prat to her she could be one right back.  
  
She opened the door to find Harry sitting by the fire, writing on some parchment. Lesson plans, if she had to guess. She had bothered him until he had agreed to at least plan out the maths lessons in advance. As the person teaching basic writing skills, she had always planned things out a week or more in advance, adjusting her syllabus based on how much progress they made in a given week. She was pleased to see that he had taken her advice. He looked up at her, smiled in acknowledgement, and returned to his parchment. A second later, he did a double-take and looked up at the man she had gripped in her arms. His face registered shock as he stood up, the parchment falling to the floor.  
  
"Hermione, what's going on?" he asked, his voice filled with concern and his face screwed into a look of concern. He must have thought that Draco had somehow captured her or done something to her. He stepped forward quickly.  
  
"Where's Severus?" she asked, trying to convey with her tone and body language that this had been her idea. But, as Severus had lamented many times, subtlety was not exactly Harry's speciality.  
  
"Upstairs," Harry replied, neither making a move to get him or taking his eyes off Draco.  
  
"Be a dear and fetch him?" she asked too sweetly. His eyes narrowed. "Please?"  
  
Harry eyed her warily and she gave a nod to try to reassure him that she really was all right. Really, Harry should know that Severus's Fidelius Charm would have expelled Draco halfway across London unless he came with Hermione's express permission. She sighed.  
  
Harry tried to exude coolness but his rapid (and noisy) ascent to the attic betrayed that. Not more than thirty seconds later he was running downstairs, Severus on his heels, wands drawn.  
  
"What's wrong?" Severus asked, eyes like steel. "What's the emergency?"  
  
Hermione rolled her eyes while Harry gestured at Draco. "Him."  
  
"And?" Severus asked impatiently.  
  
Harry gestured at Draco again, this time more emphatically. Severus lowered his wand.  
  
"Potter," he said irritably, "You bring me down here and the 'emergency' is the presence of Draco Malfoy?"  
  
Harry nodded, thinking that it was perfectly obvious.  
  
"Upstairs, Potter," Severus said in his most dangerous Professor Snape voice.  
  
"Why are you calling me Pot—"  
  
"Upstairs!" Severus snapped, his tone of voice so commanding that it made Harry forget that he was still the owner of Number Twelve. Harry complied, casting one last glance at the three remaining people downstairs before disappearing. He stopped on the first floor landing and peered over the edge, monitoring everything below him.  
  
Severus said nothing as he sized up Draco Malfoy. He could not say he was surprised to see him in this state, but he would be lying if he said he was not shocked to see him standing in Grimmauld Place. Then again, with Hermione's hand grasped around Draco's arm and a pleading look on her face, perhaps it was not so surprising. Perhaps it had only been a matter of time before she would want to rescue him too.  
  
What could he say to the boy? There was nothing to say. Draco refused to meet his former Head of House's eye, focusing firmly on the floor. He was destitute and probably on the streets. If what Severus had heard was accurate, Lucius drank himself to death a few years ago and Narcissa had taken her own life shortly thereafter. The fall of the Malfoys was due in no small part to Severus and Hermione. What does one say in such a situation?  
  
Hermione, per usual, found words when no one else would or could.  
  
"We can help you," she offered.  
  
Pale grey eyes met warm brown ones as he sneered at her, "Granger, I do not want your help. Now get your filthy Gryffindor hands off of me, I am leaving." He spared Severus not one look as he wrenched his arm out of Hermione's grip, stormed out the door, and Disapparated.  
  
Not two seconds later Severus's face was inches from Hermione's and he had her shoulders tightly gripped in his hands. "What the hell do you think you were doing?"  
  
"I—"  
  
"You brought another person into this house, into the Fidelius Charm's protection, without warning me or asking me or telling anyone of what you were doing. Have you lost your fucking mind?"  
  
Harry, watching from above, couldn't say he approved of Severus's language or methods, but did agree with the sentiment. Even though he knew Draco was but a shade of his former self, it was still Malfoy, and he didn't trust him.  
  
"Don't talk to me like that," Hermione said warningly. "I was not reckless about this. He posed no harm to me or anyone—"  
  
"You don't know that for certain!" Snape seethed.  
  
"You think I cannot judge a person's character or danger? I lived through that war too, Severus."  
  
"He may not have posed a risk to you, but do you have any idea what his sudden appearance would have done to _them?_ "  
  
"He's a war orphan, like Harry, like me, like them, and like _you_." She emphasised the last word on purpose.  
  
He faltered for a moment and stepped backward, hands still gripping Hermione's shoulders. "What did you say?"  
  
"Draco Malfoy lost his parents due to the war, same as everyone else in this house did."  
  
"You know damn well what I meant."  
  
Harry debated going downstairs but decided against it.  
  
Severus let go of her and separated himself further from her. "You speak of what you do not understand," he said in a very controlled voice. It was obvious that it was taking every ounce of his self-control to refrain from shouting at her. Severus Snape did not shout, not if he could help it. Dangerous things happened when he shouted. He could not let himself do that in front of Hermione. Rather than tempt fate, he simply turned on his heel and trudged down to the cellar below, slamming the door behind him.  
  
The cellar had, in another lifetime, held rows upon rows of elf-made wine, oak-matured mead, firewhisky, and other Wizarding libations. Sirius Black's months of house arrest had reduced the stock considerably, particularly when Remus Lupin had joined him here for several months. In its place, the cellar was magically enlarged to hold rows upon rows of brewing tables, holding cauldrons and potions stores and all manner of brewing equipment. The effect was quite like his old potions classroom back in the dungeons at Hogwarts—torches on the walls, cold stone walls, a controlled temperature. It felt like home in a strange way to him.  
  
It was a necessity in this house—not only did the children require a lot of medicinal potions, potion-making kept Severus sane during his most stressful times. He had been infamous at Hogwarts for applying for the DADA post every year, but few knew that potions were his rock. He associated the art with the most treasured people in his life: his mother had been gifted in the subject, it was the subject he and Lily had been most gifted in, and it was where he had met Hermione, albeit when she was a child and he her professor. Potions required concentration, a cool head, and above all else, precision. Severus found peace in precision, always had. With potions, he could go on auto-pilot and clear his head of everything but chopping, stirring, and grinding. The potions cellar kept him calm and the children stocked in their potions, although Severus often wondered how much longer his stamina would last to brew them. He could ask Hermione to help, he supposed, but he had already handed off so much of his responsibility to her and her friends that he wanted to keep this part to himself. He saw help as a sign of weakness, and he did not like to feel weak. Particularly not about potions.  
  
He did not ward the door shut; he needed to be able to leave in a flash if there was some sort of emergency with one of the children, and he trusted Hermione knew him well enough to know that he wanted to be left alone. He knew she likely knew this. Unfortunately for him, she didn't seem to care, and he heard her stomp down the stairway after him.  
  
He did not turn around when he heard her enter. He waited for her to say something, do something, preferably to leave. Severus was very good at waiting for things, even the impossible.  
  
"It was wrong of me to bring up your parents," she said softly from behind him. From the volume of her voice he could tell that she had gone no further than the doorway. Taking his silence as encouragement, she continued. "Andromeda told me. I'm so sorry, I know you would have told me had you wanted me to know, but now I do and I just… I'm so sorry."  
  
He couldn't tell if she was apologising for knowing it or for saying it or for the fact that it happened at all. Knowing her, it was probably all three.  
  
"You're right, it was reckless of me to bring Malfoy here," she continued. "I didn't think that he would be a threat, he's so broken, and so alone, and he reminded me of your graduates that I wanted to save him too." She risked a step closer to him. If he was going to hex her he would have done so by now, and even then, she knew that he wouldn't hex someone he loved. "I guess you're right—I'm addicted to saving wretched things."  
  
He had said that to her once, months earlier, in a joking manner whilst lying tangled in sheets in the early hours of the morning. He had said it in reference to himself. For she had saved him, almost as much as the children had saved him.  
  
In caring for them he cared for himself. In helping him care for them, she cared for him.  
  
"I guess I was a bit taken aback," she said. "I mean, you didn't seem that worried once you saw him. You sent Harry away and lowered your wand. I thought you of all people would understand that he isn't his father, and that like these children he too needs to be looked after."  
  
He heard her take another step closer. Much as he would like to ignore her, to leave, to pretend this never happened, he knew that she would not rest until they had discussed it to death. Moreover, he owed her an explanation. He had acted calm, cool, and collected when he first saw Draco, only to explode the moment he left. Much as he thought her behaviour reckless and potentially dangerous, he understood that she did have the best intentions at heart. And he knew better than anyone what paved the road to hell.  
  
With a sigh he turned around and met her eye. He willed himself to keep his voice even and controlled as he spoke.  
  
"How much contact have you and Malfoy had since the war?"  
  
She looked confused by his question.  
  
"How many times have you seen Malfoy since the war ended?"  
  
"I… I haven't."  
  
He nodded; he'd expected that answer. "How much do you know about Malfoy's life before and during the war? Who were his friends? What was his life like? What was his relationship like with his parents? With his parents' friends?"  
  
"I—"  
  
"And before you answer that," he continued, "I mean what do you know for certain, not what you have extrapolated based on how you perceived him during your teenage years as students in rival Houses from different backgrounds at Hogwarts?"  
  
"I—"  
  
"What do you know of the Malfoy family," he pressed, "other than what you read in the Prophet or heard from people who had every incentive to disparage the family?"  
  
"I—"  
  
"And finally," Severus pushed, "What do you know about the true motivations of anyone in the war? Their prejudices? Their agendas? You know your friends, but what of everyone else? What would Minerva McGonagall think of your little project here? Molly Weasley? Do you know what, if any, prejudices they hold in their hearts towards the children of Death Eaters? Would Molly Weasley be as warm and open to you desperately trying to get Valentina Rookwood out of that brothel, knowing that her son died by her father's hand? Would she understand you caring for Sergei Dolohov, knowing that her brothers were killed by his father? You know that she can kill; she was the one who killed Bellatrix Lestrange to protect Ginevra. Can you say for certain that she would not try to harm any of them?"  
  
"Molly Weasley would never—"  
  
"You're far too trusting!" Severus spat. "You approach this too much as a Gryffindor."  
  
Hermione sighed. "Must you bring House politics into absolutely _everything?_ We're not at school anymore. I fail to see how any of it is relevant anymore."  
  
"Yes! It is a handy way of classifying the true nature of people and is a system with which both you and I are very familiar. And after nearly two decades as a Head of House I cannot help but view the entire Wizarding world through that prism. It served me very well as both a teacher and a spy and I have no intention of stopping.  
  
"But getting back to the matter at hand, I bring up your Gryffindor tendencies for a reason. Gryffindors must, absolutely must, see the best in everybody. They are unflinchingly noble and have almost a compulsive need to try to rescue others they perceive to be in peril. They assume that anyone who seems halfway normal or who could, at a glance, appear to be from similar circumstances will of course share their views on just about anything in this world and act accordingly, betraying vital information.  
  
"Slytherins, on the other hand, hold back. They examine the situation from all angles. They consider the motivations and proclivities of all those they interact with, including those closest to them. To do anything less is to expose oneself to the whims of another, and a Slytherin would make damn sure that there was little to no risk involved before making a move.  
  
"I screened each and every one of you before allowing you anywhere near these children, Hermione. I know I told you that I would not enter your mind without your permission, and to that I hold moving forward. However, I used Legilimency on you and on Harry and on Luna and on Longbottom. Each and every one of you. I apologise for nothing and I would do it again in an instant. The risk is far too great to do anything less.  
  
"You assumed that Malfoy would be on 'our side' because of his and his parents' actions during the war. You assumed so because he is destitute and orphaned and on the street. Therefore, he must both want your help and share your point of view with regard to these children.  
  
"Did it occur to you that _they_ ," he gestured overhead, "might not take kindly to seeing him? Remember that his parents kept their liberty, despite having more blood on their hands and being higher up in the Dark Lord's ranks than any of their parents. Do not forget that most of them know that their parents died or were killed or were Kissed while his parents walked free. Remember that many of them are just as outraged by it as the general Wizarding public was.  
  
"Do not forget that there is much about him that you do not know, Hermione," he said in a dangerous voice. "There is much that I do not know about him. He would not meet my eye so I could not perform Legilimency. If he had not left of his own volition, I would have thrown him out and Obliviated him myself. It is simply too risky to let those we cannot trust in here. And we will use my standard of who is and who is not trustworthy before allowing any person to set foot inside of this house."  
  
Severus's head and heart were heavy. "Hermione, I made you a fellow Secret Keeper for this house for two reasons: it was prudent to have a second Secret Keeper should something happen to me, and because I trusted your judgment. After this… I do not know whether or not I should. I want to, and I know your intentions were good, so I will not change that. I will continue to trust you. But I need you to understand… this cannot happen again."  
  
Hermione felt wobbly and leaned against the cold stone wall for support. She could handle anger from him, she could take his insults and comments and sneers. But this was disappointment, and disappointment from Severus was, she discovered, something that was very difficult to stomach.  
  
"Hermione, you know that I… what I feel for you. It is real and it will never waver. But I have to put them," he gestured over his head again, "first and foremost. I committed to them first. I have to put their safety and security first. If ever this relationship becomes incompatible with that, I will have to choose, and I will have to choose them."  
  
He stepped toward her and pulled her shaking body into his arms. "Please, please, do not ever make me make that choice." He tightened his hold around her and kissed the top of her head. "Promise me you'll never make me make that choice," he whispered in a strangled voice.  
  
She nodded against his chest and was rewarded with another kiss to the top of the head.  
  
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I was only trying to help."  
  
"I know."  
  
"And… what I said about your parents…"  
  
He let out a long exhale. This was a part of his life that was both literally and figuratively buried and had been for a long time. He had had his annual day of mourning at Christmas and had neatly placed it all back in its place in the recesses of his mind. Occlumency was a way of life for Severus; he knew no other way to relate to the world. He couldn't unpack it all right now, and he did not want to.  
  
"There is no need to apologise," he whispered to her. "But please do not speak of it. Not now."  
  
She knew what he was really saying, and simply nodded.  
  
For a very long time they merely stood there, holding each other, neither one saying anything to the other. Finally, Severus broke the embrace. He needed to brew, and she needed to teach.  
  
He gave her a parting kiss good-bye and assured her that they would spend time together later that evening, after she read to the children; they still preferred her to read to them above all others.  
  
"I love you," she whispered, cupping his face in her hands and staring him in the eye to underscore her sincerity. As if he had any doubt.  
  
"You too," he said. It was still a little hard to say the words out loud. He couldn't say why. She said it daily and he loved hearing it—so much so that he had asked her specifically to say it each day. But for him to express it any more often than was absolutely necessary… that was asking a bit much. He had told her once. If anything changed, he would let her know.  
  
As she made her way from the cellar to the attic Hermione considered her conversation and Severus's warning. It wasn't an ultimatum he had given her, not quite. She knew from the moment they came back into each other's lives that they were his priority and had to come first, no matter what, and that she had only been allowed in because she had shown a similar commitment to them and their safety and their wellbeing.  
  
It occurred to Hermione that Severus's priorities were quite like that of a single father. No matter how taken he might be by a woman, if she wasn't any good for his children, she had to go. To think that Severus Snape of all people would have such priorities was a little strange, but warmed her heart all the same. What a complex man indeed.  
  
\------  
  
As she reached the second floor she met Harry, who was walking down. After Draco left, he had gone back up to the attic, but when Hermione didn't reappear for a while, he felt the need to investigate. Some Auror training never went away.  
  
"How is he?" Harry asked without preamble.  
  
"Fine," Hermione said with a weak smile. She had a feeling her second lecture of the day was coming. "He said it was a risk to bring Malfoy here, and gave me some things to think about that I hadn't considered. I feel a bit foolish now doing it."  
  
"I can't believe you brought him here," Harry said.  
  
"I know, it was stupid, I understand."  
  
"Why?" He looked at her searchingly. Harry may have been a font of forgiveness following the war, but something about Draco Malfoy set his teeth on edge still. Even broken down and left behind by the world, he still felt Malfoy was up to no good. It was not unlike Severus's relationship with Neville—no matter how much time passed, no matter how much Neville proved himself, Severus would always treat him the way he had since first year potions.  
  
War may change everything, and yet some things never changed.  
  
"I… because of our motto, Harry. What do we always say?"  
  
"Without regard for the sins of the father."  
  
"Exactly. I saw him, Harry, so broken and disheveled and I thought… well, the impulse hit me. I realise now that it shouldn't, and that I'll have to temper it in the future, and that I honestly couldn't predict what he might have done had he known about or seen any of the children here, or what their reaction might have been to him."  
  
It genuinely hadn't occurred to her that Malfoy and the children here might have some history, or that any history might be anything but positive. Just like Severus to make her understand how much she didn't know.  
  
"But it's not all his father," Harry pointed out. "Lucius Malfoy of course was a despicable human being who died a broken man, but Draco Malfoy was not exactly a saint, Hermione. He is not like them," he jerked his head toward the staircase to indicate the children.  
  
"But the result is the same."  
  
"He deserves it!" Harry exclaimed. "You're losing sight here. Draco Malfoy _chose_ to become a Death Eater. Yes, he was pushed to do it by his father, but he could have refused. Sirius did at his age, chose to leave home rather than pledge loyalty to Voldemort, and Malfoy could have done, too. They," he waved his hand overhead, "were in no such position. They were children, small children, babies, who had nothing to do with their parents' decisions. None of them took the Dark Mark. None of them agreed to commit murder. None of them tortured another human being. Not everyone who landed on the streets after the war was a victim, Hermione. Some of them, like Draco Malfoy, deserve it."  
  
She sighed. "Isn't that the kind of thinking that led us to war in the first place—that some people deserve to live lesser lives than others in this world?"  
  
"The two are not the same and you know it."  
  
"I just…" she sighed again, "I just can't help but feel sometimes like we keep fighting the same old battles over and over. What has changed about the world since the war, other than the fall of the Dark Lord? Slytherin and Gryffindor are still bitter enemies. Pro-pureblood laws still are on the books. Social services are as scant as they ever were. Even my house-elf legislation only nominally changed things, even I have to admit that.  
  
"I just… I guess that when I saw Malfoy I also saw a chance to change something. That the Princess of Gryffindor and the Prince of Slytherin could reconcile, and if they could do that, all other things would be possible."  
  
"Always the optimist."  
  
"Of course. To be anything else in this world, after everything we've seen, would be too soul-crushing, would it not?"  
  
Harry shrugged. "I don't share your idealism for a lot of things, I never did, but I can understand the appeal."  
  
"The saviour of the Wizarding World isn't idealistic?" she asked sarcastically. She snorted.  
  
"Not about all the things you are," he said, nudging her with his arm.  
  
With a sigh she led them up the stairs toward the attic.  
  
"Harry?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Do you think it'll ever get easier?"  
  
He shrugged. "I don't know."  
  
"Does it feel worth it, any of it? Look at everything we've seen and experienced since the war, and in the last nine months alone. Hell, we're the Golden Trio but it's been split ever since. Had you known what the world would become, that the problems and the prejudice you fought to eradicate would still be there, would you have done it?"  
  
"In a heartbeat," he said unflinchingly.  
  
"How can you say that?"  
  
"How can you ask it?" He stopped and grabbed her arm to make her stop and look at him. "Hermione, the world may not be perfect, but we at least have a shot at getting it right this time. Had you and I and Ron and Severus and Dumbledore and Neville and everyone else not done what we did, we would not have a chance. And a world in which we did not do what we had to do is not one I care to think about. I won't defend everything that the Ministry or Hogwarts or the Wizarding World has done in the years since, but if I did know, yes, I would do it again."  
  
"You're right, I'm being stupid."  
  
"Yes you are," Harry said, "Which is so strange because that's the last word I would ever associate with you. What's got into you?"  
  
"Nothing," she said. "Nothing."  
  
He quirked an eyebrow at her in disbelief. It was so reminiscent of Severus that she almost laughed.  
  
"Just… some days the cost of the war slaps me in the face and I turn philosophical. I suppose it was naïve to believe that we'd live a utopian existence in the end."  
  
"It's not the end yet," Harry said, playing the optimist this time. "It's only the beginning. We have lots of time to get it right. We just have to take it one step at a time. And I think for today, our powers are best served teaching some eager students their alphabet and their maths." He smiled at her and took her hand. "Agreed?"  
  
She smiled and nodded at her best friend. "Agreed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is taken from a song in "Aladdin."


	21. Art Imitates Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His style was precise, just like him. Figures were not drawn stylistically but rather realistically. He used only charcoal so the figures were rendered in black and white with copious shades of grey. He considered that this, too, reflected both his life and personality.

Clara liked her present. No, she _loved_ her present. At least that was the impression Leopold got when, as soon as she saw him at Platform 9 ¾, she ran to him and threw herself into his arms, hugging him and babbling about how brilliant it was that he had done that for her, that her brother had told her that it was a fake signature because Snape was dead, but that she knew better.  
  
She trusted him. She believed in him.  
  
He didn't see Hermione in the back of the platform, hand over her mouth to hide the grin she was unable to suppress. It was sweet, really. Leopold had been silent as to the details of his "special friend" so she hadn't much of an idea of what to expect. Truth be told, she had assumed that theirs was a relationship like Severus and Lily's, a mutual friendship but with one hopelessly besotted with the other, the other oblivious and therefore holding all the power in the relationship. Leopold and the little girl, on the other hand, seemed equally enamored of one another. It was a relationship of equals. Lucky boy.  
  
Hermione tried to remember at what age she had begun to fancy boys. Did she fancy Ron yet back in first year? She knew Ginny had fancied Harry since before her first year, when she was only ten years old, and now here they were, fifteen years later, married and madly in love.  
  
She waited while Leopold boarded the train (he insisted on loading his own trunk) and took a compartment with the redheaded girl. They both waved out the window, but Leopold had eyes only for his friend, who was beaming at her family. Hermione waved back anyway.  
  
According to Neville, Leopold had done quite well last term. She hoped the upcoming term would be more of the same. With his aptitude for learning, a true friend on his side, and the Gryffindor emblem on his chest, Leopold might just avert disaster.  
  
Might.  
  
\--------  
  
Hermione knew that if she made a production out of giving him a gift, or even mentioned his birthday, Severus would not accept it. He preferred to keep a low profile when it came to his personal life, even with her to a certain degree. She therefore debated whether it would be best to leave the gift for him on his pillow, where he could obtain it at his leisure, or to hand it to him privately.  
  
She decided on a private hand-off. She kept silent about his birthday all day. Told Harry and Luna not to mention it to them and, above all, not to mention it to any of the children.  
  
She had, however, neglected to warn Neville.  
  
"Severus," he'd called happily as he came out of the floo that afternoon, "Happy birth—"  
  
"Longbottom!" Severus stormed angrily. He flew to his feet and hit him with a tongue-tying curse.  
  
After Longbottom held up his hands in surrender, Severus canceled the jinx and gave him a murderous glare. Longbottom ran up the stairs without risking another word or look.  
  
Severus eyed her warily for the first half of the day and, apparently deciding that if she was going to do something, she would have done already, visibly relaxed after that.  
  
Severus was turning forty-five this year. Not old by Wizarding or Muggle standards, and his life would have been full for a man twice his age, but he still didn't want it acknowledged. He was forty-five, fostering fifteen children, and living with a woman nearly twenty years his junior. He was a former Death Eater, former spy, former professor, and former Hogwarts Headmaster.  
  
Lots of "formers" in his life, come to think of it.  
  
Hermione was young enough that she could still be things if she wanted to. He was old enough that he not only was things, he used to be things. Both of his parents had died by the time they were forty-two. They had seemed so very old at the time, and now he realised that, from this vantage point, they really had been so very young.  
  
All things considered, he couldn't help but feel a bit middle-aged.  
  
When he retired to their room (when had it become "their" room? He had to admit he liked the thought) that evening, after a long day of brewing medicinal potions, speaking with Longbottom about Mr. Clairemont's progress at Hogwarts, speaking with Lovegood about the counseling sessions, attending to one child's panic attack (triggered by the hooting of an owl, which had been the way by which he had learnt of his parents' deaths in the final battle), and avoiding Harry Potter, he was ready to collapse onto the bedclothes and fall fast asleep. It had been a day like any other day. Perfect.  
  
He stopped in his tracks, however, when he saw Hermione perched on his side of the bed with a small parcel in her hand wrapped in green. She had a small smile on his face, as if daring him to admonish her for buying him something on his birthday. He wanted to, badly. No Slytherin accepted a gift outright, ever. They must resist at first, act suspicious, act like accepting the gift is beneath them, and only after the giver has begun to beg the recipient to take it off their hands to they finally accept. Otherwise the giver has too much power over the recipient. Really, it was quite elementary.  
  
Severus, however, found himself unable to play the usual game with Hermione. She looked eager yet sheepish at the same time. She held out the parcel to him, saying nothing. Really, it would be rude not to take it from her. How disappointed she would be if he didn't. Besides, it would be a waste of time to play the game with a Gryffindor; they couldn't help but beg the recipient to take the gift from the get-go and would be personally insulted otherwise.  
  
He sat down next to her on the bed and took the parcel, leaning in and giving her a soft kiss. "Thank you," he said.  
  
"Happy birthday," she whispered, as if saying it at a normal volume would make him reject it. Which it probably would have.  
  
He carefully unwrapped the parcel to reveal a small leather-bound book. It had nothing written on the front or along the spine, and he opened it up to reveal blank pages.  
  
"It's a sketchbook," she offered. "You mentioned that you used to draw and so… here you go. It's enchanted so that only you will see what you draw in it, and it will help improve your technique by guiding your hand based on what you see in your head. Of course, you can cancel that at any time by casting a quick Finite on it, but there it is."  
  
Hermione held her breath as he looked over the gift. She wasn't sure what had possessed her to give him the same gift Lily had all those years ago. It's not like she was jealous of the woman, or felt like she had to match up with her in any way. She rather thought that someone as buttoned-up as Severus (both literally and figuratively) could benefit from some sort of creative outlet. There was a piano in the cellar at Grimmauld Place, but if he played, or if he even could play, she would likely never know. He had very little time, anyway. This was a hobby that he could take anywhere and do at any time and, best of all, do so privately.  
  
At least she hoped he would see it that way, and not as a vain attempt to compare herself with Lily Evans Potter.  
  
"Thank you," he said again, but this time more softly. He tried to convey that he really liked it. Drawing had been a secret passion of his for years; it had taught him how to carefully scrutinise and observe those around him, to understand how certain expressions and body language could convey peoples' motivations and thoughts and feelings. It had taught him how to conduct his observation without being obvious. Really, drawing was the best spy training. It had also been a way to relax, to sort out thoughts, to cement memories. It truly was a thoughtful gift. To make sure Hermione understood that, he added, "I really like it."  
  
She smiled at him. He was not one to pay false compliments or assuage feelings, so if he verbalised that he liked something, he actually liked it. She kissed him again and he wrapped his arm around her.  
  
"I only wish I had more time to do it," he lamented.  
  
"You do," she pointed out. "You have me and Harry and Luna and Neville here all the time, taking care of most of the duties. If you need help making potions, you know that I can manage most, if not all, of what you have to brew. Harry can take over some of the administrative stuff—don't roll your eyes, he really can. If you're still overwhelmed, tell us. That's why we came here in the first place, that's why we bullied our way into your life and insisted on taking up this cause with you."  
  
He offered her a little nod but nothing more. He knew that he could relinquish control of many of those things, but he did not wish to.  
  
"It was very thoughtful of you," he said. He gently set the sketchbook down on the side table and took her in his arms. "I normally do not like my birthday to be acknowledged, but never before has it been done in an understated, personal way. I could have asked for nothing better. So thank you again."  
  
"What do you think you will draw?" she asked.  
  
He shrugged. "Whatever I see, whatever inspires me, whatever is on my mind. I suspect there will be a fair few of you in there as a result, as you fit the criteria for all three."  
  
"You'd want to draw me?"  
  
"Mm hm," he murmured, pulling her down to the bed with him and playing with the thin strap of her vest. "The female body is a work of art, and what better way to appreciate it than to record perfection when I see it?"  
  
She snorted. "My body is hardly perfect, Severus. I have a scar on my chest, another one on my neck, a little extra weight around my mid section, my thighs have always been too large, my breasts are too small and uneven—''  
  
He cut her off with a kiss. "Stop that. You are beautiful. I have always thought so."  
  
"Always?"  
  
"Well, not when you were a student, because such a thing would have been completely inappropriate. I never allowed myself to think that way about any student. But," he said, "in some of my weaker moments I did allow myself an occasional glance and did like what I saw."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"Really."  
  
"You didn't seem to think so my fourth year."  
  
"What happened your fourth…?" his voice trailed off as he remembered a hex and laughter and long buck teeth and his own cruel words, 'I see no difference.'  
  
Surely that could not still be affecting her ten years later?  
  
"Hermione," he whispered, pulling her into his arms. "I make no excuse for that. I am sorry."  
  
She shook her head. "Being stupid," she said. "It was long ago, I was a child, I did have over-large teeth, and we were both different people back then."  
  
"Yes, but I should not have said that, as both a person and especially as a teacher."  
  
"Thank you," she said. "So, you liked what you saw, did you?"  
  
He smiled. "At the Yule Ball, when you were dancing with that Bulgarian blockhead, the eyes of every man in the room were on you, and not because you were on his arm. At Slughorn's Christmas party, when you flounced around in that pink party dress like you didn't know what you looked like." She blushed. "But as I said, I would only allow myself a small glance. Not only was I in a very precarious position at the time, as a teacher it would have been unconscionable of me to even consider a student in that manner."  
  
"But… you did sneak a peek?"  
  
"Well… I am only a man," he said sheepishly.  
  
Hermione licked her lips. "Yes, so I noticed," she said, giving his figure an appraising look, her eyes lingering on the evidence of his manliness. "And it's your birthday, too."  
  
The sketchbook lay on the side table, untouched, for the rest of the night.  
  
\-------  
  
Luna had seen much progress with the children through the use of "play therapy"—art therapy, play time, and other ways to get the children to both open up about their families and begin interacting with each other. They were at ease with each other and with the adults they saw every day. But once they got to Hogwarts, things would change. Leopold had been a remarkable case—so far in his first term, he had not had a single disciplinary incident, no reported bullying, no major medical issues, and no hexing beyond that what was normal between Hogwarts students. Whether it was his House or his new name or sheer dumb luck, he was doing well. Luna knew she could not afford to be so optimistic about the others, however, and so she needed to shake up their therapy sessions.  
  
She brought her idea to Severus at the beginning of February.  
  
"Cognitive Behavioural Therapy?" he asked.  
  
She nodded. "Basically train them to calm themselves when they experience their trauma triggers. For some of them it's solitude, others it's darkness, for many of them it's crowds or strangers."  
  
He nodded. "And this would involve what?"  
  
"Well," she began hesitantly, "it would involve having them relive the trauma, focus on the reactions it causes, and training them, bit by bit, to change their reactions to the traumatic memories. That way, when they encounter their 'triggers' they will be more likely to cope with it."  
  
"Is there no other way? Reliving much of that would be intense even for a grown adult, to ask traumatised children…" He shook his head. "I think that may be too much."  
  
"Severus," she said in her dreamy, cheery voice that set his teeth on edge, "What House are most of your children sorted into?"  
  
"They are not my children, Miss Lovegood, and you know very well that all of them have been sorted into Slytherin, save for Mr. Clairemont."  
  
"And where are the Slytherin quarters?" she asked in what Severus considered to be a patronising matter.  
  
"The dungeons."  
  
"And where did they live prior to coming here?"  
  
"The underground space in the orphanage." Comprehension dawned. "You believe that one of the reasons they have historically had so many problems at Hogwarts is that they find themselves living in a dungeon."  
  
"In a room with other children, under ground, with no adult in the immediate vicinity," she finished for him. "I personally have only visited the Slytherin common room once, but I found it a rather dreary existence, and if I had painful memories associated with a windowless, underground living space, I would have a difficult time living there, too."  
  
Severus wanted to ask her on what occasion she visited the Slytherin common room (it would likely have been whilst he was Head of Slytherin), but stopped after he realised he did not want to know. He instead weighed the options. Luna's points were all good, but it was still asking a lot of them.  
  
"What do you suggest?"  
  
"Being wizards, we have a variety of methods at our disposal to allow them to re-live their memories," Luna pointed out.  
  
Severus shook his head. "Their brains are too underdeveloped at this age to withdraw memories and place them in a pensieve, and Legilimency is not an option."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"I refuse to use it on them. They need to be able to trust me and they never will if they know that I have the ability to enter their minds at my leisure and if I cause them to relive their most painful memories."  
  
"That is a consideration," Luna said. "Is anyone else skilled in Legilimency who could help you?"  
  
He shook his head. "Not to the level I am, and frankly anyone less than a Master at it would potentially cause more harm than good in undeveloped minds."  
  
"Even for simply retrieving memories?"  
  
He sighed. "Hermione does have some background in memory charms, but I don't think her Legilimency skills are sufficient for this."  
  
"There are some Muggle methods of recovery that I could try," Luna offered. "They wouldn't re-live memories the same way we might, but they could at least begin to recall it? Hypnosis, perhaps, would be a good place to start. Muggle hypnosis, that is. Maybe in the future we could add some potions to help sharpen the recollections, but that would be a long time yet. And perhaps at a later date, when they will be ready for more thorough and intensive work in this area, we could consider ways to have them relive the memories through magical means."  
  
"It is worth considering," Severus said. "Much as I am loath to offer any praise on anyone, I would be remiss if I did not say that I have not been disappointed in the way that your methods, however unorthodox they might be, have helped them. They have… come a long way, Luna."  
  
For Severus, this was the most effusive praise and thanks he could give, and Luna knew it.  
  
"You're welcome."  
  
She got up to leave.  
  
"Luna," Severus called as she reached the doorway. "Do you think they will ever get past it?"  
  
She shook her head. "Completely? No. But I do believe that they can learn to live with it to the point that it no longer controls them. I believe that they can eventually learn to control the feelings and memories."  
  
"Can?"  
  
"Can. I cannot say if they will. It depends on a variety of factors."  
  
"I do not accept anything less than perfection, Luna."  
  
"I know, I was your student once. But you may have to learn to accept 'best effort,'" she said, unknowingly echoing Poppy's words from a few months earlier.  
  
\-------  
  
It was with a slight sense of shame that Severus decided to make use of the charm Hermione placed on the sketchbook that would guide his hand in order to improve his technique. It had been at least a decade since he had last sat down with a blank sheet of paper for the sole purpose of drawing. Far, far too long.  
  
It was his mother who had encouraged the talent. _"Habibi," she had said, "You have the hands of an artist. Use them well."_  
  
He went down to the cellar and removed the books full of sketches that he made whilst at Hogwarts and after. He hadn't looked at them in years. It would help him practise (and wean himself off the charm) to look at his style and see if it wouldn't trigger the muscle memory.  
  
His style was precise, just like him. Figures were not drawn stylistically but rather realistically. He used only charcoal so the figures were rendered in black and white with copious shades of grey. He considered that this, too, reflected both his life and personality.  
  
It was late at night. The children had been put down hours earlier, Luna was (to the best of Severus's knowledge) sleeping alone in her bed, and he had left Hermione sleeping tangled in the sheets.  
  
Severus crept back up the stairs to their room and set an armchair at the foot of the bed. He had a good view of Hermione from here—lying on her stomach, arms pillowed under her head, hair flowing messily over her shoulders and down her bare back, and the sheet lying loose across her hip, she was absolutely breathtaking.  
  
Like any good Slytherin, Severus would not put himself or his craft on display until it was perfected. Hermione didn't need to know that she was already modeling for him. It had been many years since he had a live female nude model—he would take advantage of the opportunity.  
  
He flicked his wand and bathed the room in soft candlelight and firelight. There was always low light in the room (Hermione still couldn't sleep in complete darkness) but he needed a bit more to work. He doubted this would wake her up. Conjuring a charcoal pencil and casting a silencing charm on it so that the scratching of it against the paper would not disturb her, he took a deep breath and began.  
  
\-------  
  
Hermione honestly hadn't known what was in the book when she opened it. Frankly, she was surprised he hadn't hidden it in his cellar, warded against any intrusion. Once she looked, she knew she should have looked away, but curiosity overcame her and she could not help but flip through the book from cover to cover.  
  
She immediately realised that it was an old sketchbook of Severus's. It had obviously been done a long time ago; the dates in the corner of each page (next to the stylised "SS") were all from 1976 through 1977; this would have been Severus's sixth year at Hogwarts.  
  
Hermione did not know much about Severus's sixth year at Hogwarts beyond his tirades against James Potter and what little Harry knew about Severus and Lily's friendship. According to Harry, James and Sirius had begun to target Severus on the Hogwarts Express their first year and had remained bitter enemies ever since. He had been friends with Lily Evans Potter since before starting at Hogwarts and remained best friends until the end of their fifth year. Severus had nearly been killed by a transformed Remus at the beginning of fifth year. His parents were killed during the summer between his sixth and seventh years, and he had taken the Dark Mark just after finishing at Hogwarts. He had been a reluctant member of the Slug Club and played Chaser for the Slytherin Quidditch team during his seventh year.  
  
There was still a dearth of information about his sixth year.  
  
The drawings were in a simple and realistic style. The figures themselves were the focal point; there was little, if anything, in the way of background or scenery, unless it was a part of the action in the picture. They were charmed to be animated; the drawings came to life and the figures in them moved about as if they were one of the Muggle cartoons Hermione had watched as a child. They weren't Wizarding portraits, she couldn't talk to them or interact with them; the little figures simply repeated their movements in a cycle. She might have thought the charm rather a small trick that would cheapen the picture, but instead it enhanced it. It gave these very real drawings a heart, for lack of a better term, as the figures in the picture expressed emotion and feeling through changing facial expressions and subtle body language.  
  
She knew Severus had been very skilled at observation, and that this contributed to his skill, but she truly appreciated it in the nuance of the work. The small, barely perceptible movements that betrayed a thought or desire or fear. The subtle facial expressions that would change in a heartbeat. How doing nothing could convey so much.  
  
On the first page, a woman with long hair, a thin face, and large almond-shaped eyes was sitting under a tree reading a book; leaves would fall into her hair and she would brush them off, annoyed. In the next page, the same woman lay on what looked like grass, hair fanned out behind her head, skirt riding up her thighs, as she lazily waved a wand above her head, conjuring first birds (Hermione suppressed a smile at this) then bats then fish, a look of satisfaction on her face each time.  
  
This woman, whoever she was, seemed to feature in every one of his pictures. Sometimes she danced in place. Other times she playfully turned away from the page, glancing over her shoulder in a suggestive manner, flirting with the artist. On still other pages she would sleep, Hogwarts tie wrapped around her plaited hair, clothing wrinkled, lying against some pillows on a stone floor.  
  
What Hermione saw in the latter pages surprised her.  
  
There the same woman was… nude… in a bed, sheets rumpled, watching Hermione sleepily with a tired smile on her face. Her expression was… satiated? On the next page, she lay on her side, facing the page, hair messily falling about her shoulders, arm over her breasts, giving the artist a "come hither" look. The series continued: she was lying on her back, completely unclothed and uncovered, arms over her head; she was giggling as she hid her naughty bits from view with her hands; she slept softly but sneaked a peak at the artist.  
  
Whoever she was, the rendezvouz had apparently been their only one. All pictures had the same date.  
  
Abruptly these pictures stopped and only one picture remained. The same girl, fully clothed, was leaning over a desk, scratching something onto a parchment with an old quill. After finishing with great flourish, she held up the parchment for the artist's inspection and blew a kiss.  
  
Hermione's breath caught when she read what was written. It couldn't be; they hadn't been friends anymore at this point, she had cut him off completely.  
  
 _Lots of Love,_  
  
Lily  
  
Maybe the scenes were all drawn from memory, or from Severus's imagination? But they looked too realistic to be anything but drawn from life. Hermione was no artist, and had done little study of art, but she knew what her gut was telling her, and her gut was telling her that this woman, Lily Evans Potter, had posed for every single portrait in this book.  
  
Every single one.  
  
She knew that he had loved Lily. He had told her himself a number of times. His Patronus had changed for her and still stayed with him to this day. He had fought and nearly died in the war for his love for her. As much as Hermione had been aware of all of that, been at peace with all of that, seen the beauty in all of that, she had never considered that the two had ever acted on their feelings, had been in a relationship, had… consummated their feelings for each other.  
  
It was a puzzle, to be sure. Either Severus had a very active and clear imagination (and Hermione knew from experience that this could be true) or the relationship between him and Lily had been far more intimate than anyone had ever known, or been willing to admit.  
  
She knew it would be a risk to ask him about it. It would involve admitting that she had looked through the book, would involve admitting that the ghost of Lily Evans Potter was still a part of their relationship, and would involve what would most likely promise to be a most awkward conversation.  
  
Hermione wrestled with the decision for some time before making up her mind.  
  
When she finally screwed up the courage to do so, Hermione spoke to him without preamble.  
  
"What really happened between you and Lily Potter?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My knowledge of Cognitive Behavior Therapy is cursory at best. I did do a bit of research on the subject, and it is supposedly one of the best ways to help people of all ages deal with post-traumatic stress, children in particular. Many apologies if I got something wrong about it. Hypnosis is a tool used in therapy, but my understanding is that it has become disfavored because it is prone to manipulation. We'll pretend it works in this story.
> 
> "Habibi" is Arabic for "my dear" and is an endearment often used by parents for their male children ("habibti" is the female equivalent). Given their coloring and features, I've decided Severus and Eileen are Arab on her mother's side (maybe that's where his maternal grandmother comes from). Just a little layer to add texture to the character. My Slytherin hails from that part of the world so this is a bit of an homage to him.
> 
> We really don't know much about Severus's sixth year, other than the fact that he scribbled in his potions book a lot. I'm about to take liberties with canon, folks. Don't hate me for it.


	22. Severus and Lily

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Cult of Lily Evans Potter was so focused on her love for her husband and son, and the stories about Severus were so focused on his work as a double agent, few considered that there might be more to the story. It was riveting.

_"What really happened between you and Lily Potter?"_  
  
How in the hell was Severus supposed to respond to _that?_  
  
For once in his life, he couldn't think of a snappy reply. So he opted for silence and hoped that Hermione would elaborate on what she meant. It had a side benefit of buying himself some time to figure out how to extricate himself from the conversation, because he was certain that no good could come of it.  
  
Severus would stay silent as long as he had to. He was a very patient man. He would be silent for days if he had to. Anything to avoid the row he was sure was coming.  
  
His patience finally paid off when Hermione exhaled, took his hand, and beckoned him to sit on the edge of the bed with her. They sat with their hips turned toward each other, facing each other, one foot on the floor.  
  
"I know," she hesitated, "I know that I probably have no right to ask about this. Your past is your own and it should make no difference to me. However, and please don't get too mad at me, I saw this…" she withdrew the sketch book from her robes, "…and I had to know. I'm sorry, Severus, I didn't mean to pry, but he is my best friend's mother, and it all implies a very different relationship than what you led Harry to believe."  
  
He knew he should be angry that she'd looked in it. How could he have been so careless as to leave it anywhere but buried and locked and warded away in his locked and warded cellar that not even she could enter without his permission? He had left it out in his bedroom, in their bedroom… that was practically an invitation for her to look.  
  
Maybe, subconsciously, it had been. For the first time in years, he felt at peace with himself, at least with regard to his love life. The shadow of Lily Evans (Potter) had been so consuming that it blocked out anyone and everything else. Now that she was gone, and his obligation to her son was fulfilled, it had… shifted, and allowed him to see other opportunities. Like the woman in his bed with the troubled expression on her face.  
  
He should be upset with her. He should call her out for snooping, demand that she tell him what other things she had hidden from him, and unleash the rage that he was so famous for. Yet here he was, not wishing to do any of those things. He was, always had been, and always would be fiercely protective of his own privacy. That would never change. But… well, he decided he didn't like keeping secrets from her. The "thrill" of doing so, if he could even call it that, was gone.  
  
He wanted to tell her. He was at a loss to explain why, but he wanted to.  
  
Clearing his throat, he began. "I know that Harry is under the impression that Lily and I ended our friendship in after our OWLs in fifth year and that, from that point onward, we had no further contact. I also understand that he knows that his parents became an item in our seventh year. None of that is a lie. But… some things were left out. Things I believed he was better off not knowing."  
  
Hermione nodded, not wanting to push him or pressure him. She was positively dying to ask him questions, but knew him well enough to know that he would tell her what he wanted her to know, nothing more and nothing less. She only hoped that he was feeling generous enough to include everything she wanted to know.  
  
He continued. "For months after the OWLs incident, Lily and I did not speak. Harry may have mentioned that I camped outside the entrance to Gryffindor Tower until she would agree to speak with me, and she only rejected me. This was true. I thought it was the end of us, and in many ways, it was. But as disgusting as what I said was, she was a good enough and forgiving enough person to seek me out at the end of the summer holidays, at the park halfway between our houses where we first met, to tell me that as angry as she was with me, she missed me too much to end things completely.  
  
"I was… there are still no words to describe what I felt at that moment. I had my second chance. I was not going to do anything to ruin it. Fight my entire House, abandon the Dark Lord, whatever it took, I was not going to ruin this. Not now, and not ever.  
  
"It was slow going at first. Once we were back at Hogwarts, she didn't go out of her way to seek me out as she had in prior years. She would smile and wave at me, perhaps we'd talk a bit or walk to a class together, but there was nothing really familiar about our reactions. She was still getting over what I had said to her and I, well, I didn't want to screw this up so I merely followed her lead.  
  
"Slowly but surely we began to reconcile. Perhaps we would have stayed in that close-but-far holding pattern with one another if not for one man: Horace Slughorn.  
  
"Back then Horace would partner up the students himself, rather than let them choose, and it was not uncommon for him to pair a Gryffindor and a Slytherin. He claimed much later that it was meant to encourage inter-house unity, but anyone with half a brain knew that in the Gryffindor-Slytherin class, the hardest one to teach, regardless of the subject, students were more likely to avoid hexing each other if they were partnered. If your grade for the day depended on you acting civilly with your partner, you would do it. If the class wasn't divided in half the way it always was when you were a student, with Gryffindors on the left and Slytherins on the right, they were far less likely to gang up on one another."  
  
"Why didn't you continue the tradition?" Hermione interrupted. She was never one to give Horace Slughorn credit for anything, but that seemed to be a good idea.  
  
"I was not in a position to," he replied quickly, sparing her a small glare that told her not to interrupt again. "You forget sometimes that my role as a spy required me to favour my own house, and pairing Slytherins with Gryffindors would have been seen as a punishment by many of the Dark Lord's followers. They certainly thought it was in my day."  
  
She nodded in understanding (even though she knew he picked on Gryffindor on purpose and loved every second of it) and gestured for him to continue.  
  
"We were paired together. I believe you might remember Horace mentioning Lily's talent for potion-making?" She nodded. "That doesn't do her justice. She was… amazing. A natural. Half the additions to the Half Blood Prince's textbook came from her insights during the year. It was all about intuition with her, nothing methodical. I too had a 'sense' about potions that few others did, and together we were unstoppable. We shot to the top of the class and never looked back.  
  
"Partnering her was wonderful. At first we only spoke about the class whilst in the class. Then we began working on our homework together. Eventually, we began spending more time with one another outside of class, not working, just enjoying being friends again. I cannot tell you how much I had missed it.  
  
"Toward the end of the fall term, she and I went for a walk around the lake. It was already covered in snow, the whole of the castle grounds was bathed in white. Lily was talking about God knows what, I was content just to listen to her if it meant I could spend time alone with her. As we walked, a single snowflake, just one, fell from the sky and landed precisely on the tip of her nose."  
  
His expression changed from his usual mask to… wistful? Nostalgic? Whatever it was Hermione had never seen it before.  
  
"She moved to brush it off but I stopped her hand by grasping it lightly around the wrist. I don't know what on earth possessed me to do it, but I leaned forward and kissed it off her nose. It was a reckless act from me—things had been going well, slowly, but tentatively, and I was absolutely convinced that I'd just ruined everything. To do something so… Gryffindorish was outside the bounds of sanity for me."  
  
"Some might call it courage," Hermione offered. "Though I might call it love."  
  
"It was definitely love," Severus agreed, "at least on my end it was love.  
  
"For the longest time we stood there, inches apart, eye-to-eye, her wrist still in my hand. The only thing that gave away the fact that we were still breathing was the little puffs of breath that came from our mouths and crystallised in mid-air.  
  
"She moved her mouth as if she was going to say something, and I was so afraid that it would be a rejection and that I had but a few seconds left to enjoy her company, so once again my reckless, 'courageous', side reared its head and I pulled her close to me and kissed her on the mouth. I closed my eyes and moved against her, so afraid that this would be my only chance. I just had to know what it felt like to kiss her. Once."  
  
Between any other couple, such a discussion about a past love might be awkward. Instead, Hermione was enraptured by the story. The Cult of Lily Evans Potter was so focused on her love for her husband and son, and the stories about Severus were so focused on his work as a double agent, few considered that there might be more to the story. It was riveting.  
  
"As the seconds wore on I gradually became aware that even though I wasn't gripping her close to me, she was still there. And that she was kissing me back. Suddenly her hands were on my shoulders, and mine at her waist, and we just… continued to kiss. Chastely, calmly, but we continued to kiss for a very long time.  
  
"When it finally ended, we just looked at each other and smiled. I finally managed to form words again and said something terribly cliché, like, 'You have no idea how long I've been wanting to do that.' She surprised me by saying, 'Me too.' I must have had a prize look on my face, because she laughed, kissed my nose, and said, 'Really. I wouldn't have sought you out again if there hadn't been something more there. As much as you hurt me… I still couldn't stop thinking about you.'  
  
"I told her, 'Never again.' And she believed me. We embraced and where there had only been a single snowflake before, there were now hundreds. And we just swayed in the flurry of snow for as long as we could, until we could no longer keep each other warm enough and surrendered ourselves to the castle again."  
  
"You became a couple after that," Hermione said, stating the obvious.  
  
Severus nodded. "We did."  
  
"How did the Marauders take it?"  
  
"Not well," Severus said, wanting to both cringe and chuckle at the same time. "The first time James Potter saw us holding hands I swore that he had just taken a whole flask of Pepper-Up potion, the way steam was coming from his ears. It took the combined efforts of Lupin and Black to keep him from coming after me."  
  
"Sirius defended you?" She gave him a sceptical look.  
  
"I think it was more about not angering Lily. I distinctly remember hearing something about her 'coming to her senses eventually' and not to ruin his future chances with her by starting a fight with me. Good advice, really. And surprising, coming from Black."  
  
Hermione found herself agreeing with him. The Sirius she had known never considered the long-term consequences of his own actions. She supposed that it was always easier to do so with others than with yourself. She swallowed; she still missed him, and now she lived in his old house.  
  
"Our relationship was not popular with either of our Houses, or friends for that matter. But I didn't care. I knew that she was sacrificing much for my sake and that she opened herself up to a lot of scorn for it, so I tried to make it worth her while. Every day I brought her some sort of flower or herb, something from nature. Lily always loved nature and the properties of plants. She saw magic in everything that grew. I suppose it's why she was so adept at potions."  
  
Hermione wondered if this was why he now hated having anything associated with the natural world in his home; too many painful memories.  
  
"I carried her books, I attended every bloody meeting of Horace Slughorn's stupid club with her, I intercepted housemates of mine who would target her due to her blood status… everything I could think of.  
  
"We found secluded and forgotten areas of the castle to spend time together. Something for which students have been paying ever since. I knew all the best places for 'interludes' because we took advantage of all of them ourselves at one point or another.  
  
"I couldn't offer her money or popularity or prestige or anything of the sort, but I could offer her love. And I tried to show it every day."  
  
Hermione knew the answer from their discussion on Patronuses but could not help but ask the question. "Did she love you back?"  
  
He hesitated. "No. Not in the same way I loved her. Never as deeply. I do not believe she ever loved me, not in that way. I believe she loved me as a friend, and perhaps confused that with romantic love—we were but sixteen—but I do not think that she did. In fact, I know that she did not."  
  
"How?"  
  
He shrugged. "I just do."  
  
Hermione wondered if she dared to push her luck and ask him about what happened between them. Had the relationship just fallen apart after they discovered they were not suited for one another, like Harry and Cho or Dean and Ginny? Had there been an intervening cause? A giant row? If so, when? Everyone had been a bit hazy on when Harry's parents were married; he wasn't even entirely certain. It had been done quickly and quietly. There had apparently even been speculation that the entire affair had been a shotgun wedding, considering how young they were and how soon after they announced their pregnancy; they had only been nineteen years old.  
  
Could Severus be… Harry's father?  
  
She threw away that ridiculous notion instantly. For as long as she could remember, every wizard who encountered Harry commented on just how much he looked like James (save for Lily's eyes, of course). Hermione had seen a picture—James and Harry could have been twins. There was not a trace of Severus in Harry—aside from the black hair, which was actually quite common in the Wizarding population. Besides, since Harry and Severus both descended in part from old pureblood lines, it was likely they had a common ancestor somewhere.  
  
She considered that this was the most Severus had ever said to her in a single sitting. It wasn't like him to monologue. She wondered if he'd ever told anyone the true story about him and Lily. Dumbledore? Maybe, but probably not everything, like he just did now. She wondered if he'd ever wanted to tell the whole story of him and Lily, not the abbreviated versions he gave to Harry and Dumbledore. She couldn't help but feel a bit honored that he was comfortable speaking with her about it.  
  
It spoke to a high degree of trust between them. She was thrilled that their relationship had reached this point.  
  
As the thoughts raced through Hermione's mind, Severus began speaking again.  
  
"I suppose you're wondering what happened between us, then?"  
  
She nodded. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to…"  
  
"I… I don't think I can tell you," he said evenly. He met her eyes. "But I can show you."  
  
She looked at him blankly for a moment, then realized what he was offering and nodded.  
  
"I have to warn you, Hermione," Severus said, taking her hand, "you may not like what you see. Please… do not think too terribly of me."  
  
Hermione squeezed his hand and gave him a soft kiss on the lips. "I could never think terribly of you, Severus."  
  
He hesitated, then took his other hand and brought it to Hermione's cheek, aligning their faces so that their eyes met. He took a deep breath and then spoke.  
  
_"Legilimens."_  
  
\------  
  
_"Hold still," scolded Severus. Lily just giggled and covered her breasts again.  
  
Hermione took in the scene before her. They were in a room Hermione did not recognise. It looked like it was in the castle somewhere, so she surmised that it was in the Room of Requirement. Neither Severus nor Lily must have known about the room's properties; most likely they had thought they had stumbled upon a perfect room for a secret rendezvous.  
  
A seventeen-year-old Severus sat cross-legged on a large bed, a white sheet hastily thrown around his waist. He bent over his sketch book. Across from him, stretched out on her back, arms overhead, was Lily Evans. Not Potter, not yet, Hermione thought. She crept behind Severus and saw that he was finishing the last sketch she'd seen in his book.  
  
"Sev, I just feel so… naughty posing like this," Lily protested. "Aren't you finished yet?"  
  
"I could finish it quickly, or I could finish it properly," Severus chided. "Which would you rather?"  
  
"Honestly?"  
  
"I promise it's worth it."  
  
"I'm getting cold."  
  
"So I see." He gave a wicked smirk and raised his eyebrows up and down, which Lily rewarded by throwing a pillow at him. He dodged it and chuckled. "Gryffindors," he playfully muttered under his breath.  
  
The drawing truly was nearly complete. Hermione had a feeling that Severus was deliberately hiding that from her so as to keep her posing just a few minutes longer. It was a rather erotic pose for two teenagers.  
  
She watched as the young Severus's hands swept deftly over the parchment, shading and softening lines. It reminded Hermione of the scene from Titanic where Leonardo Di Caprio drew Kate Winslet in the nude. Severus was just as talented and passionate, and it was real.  
  
She wondered if she should take him up on his offer to draw her like this?  
  
Severus finished his drawing and wrote his initials and the date on the bottom right-hand corner. SS, 12/3/77.  
  
"There," he said with mock agitation, "Are you happy now, Miss Evans?"  
  
"Very," Lily said, wrapping the sheet around her and sidling up next to him. "Let me see?" He placed the book in her lap and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pressing a kiss to her temple.  
  
"Wow," Lily said. "You make me look… sexy."  
  
"You are sexy, my love," he said. Lily smiled at him shyly but said nothing. She did not return the endearment. Lily closed the book and pulled Severus in for a languid, post-coital kiss.  
  
Hermione averted her eyes. Even though the Severus in this memory looked and acted far different from the one she had fallen in love with, and even though this happened decades earlier and the woman in question was no longer alive, it was still difficult to watch the man she loved kiss and caress another woman.  
  
It just was.  
  
She felt a shift and could tell that Severus had deliberately fast-forwarded through this part of the memory. When she looked again at the bed, Severus and Lily were holding each other, their hair messy and bodies covered in sweat.  
  
"Severus?"  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Can we stay here forever?"  
  
"Let's."  
  
"I wish we could."  
  
"Why couldn't we?"  
  
She gave him a playful shove. "We'll be missed."  
  
"You might be."  
  
She gave him a squeeze. "Do you think we can get away with spending the night here?"  
  
"I don't know, but it's worth the attempt." He planted a kiss on the top of her head. "Lily?"  
  
"Hmm?" Her eyes were shut now.  
  
"This… this has been the most incredible day of my life."  
  
"I'm glad, Sev."  
  
"I'd… I'd never done this before."  
  
"It didn't show," she said reassuringly.  
  
"Did I…" he trailed off, swallowing a bit. "Did I hurt you?"  
  
"You couldn't tell?" She raised her head to look at him. He shook his head. "Not a bit."  
  
Severus looked visibly relieved as he released tension that Hermione hadn't even realised was there. "Good," he said. "I know that…that is, I have heard that many women, their first time…"  
  
He trailed off. Hermione could tell what he was really asking. So, apparently, could Lily.  
  
"Sev…" she started. She looked conflicted, clearly debating with herself whether or not to tell him something. Eventually, the Gryffindor courage seemed to win over and she continued to speak. "Sev… I absolutely loved this, and I can't wait to do this again with you, but…"  
  
"But?" He tensed up again, his face hardening into the mask that would one day be his trademark. He hadn't mastered it yet, however, and easily betrayed the nervousness in his eyes. Hermione could tell that he feared Lily was about to leave him.  
  
"But…" Lily continued. "Promise me you won't get upset?"  
  
"Why would I get upset?"  
  
"Just… promise me, Sev."  
  
"I promise."  
  
"I'm not proud of it, but," she sighed, "this wasn't my first time."  
  
Severus's eyes widened in surprise. Hermione could see a variety of emotions cross his face: surprise, anger, embarrassment, curiosity, disappointment, and fear. His hold on Lily tightened and his breath quickened ever so faintly.  
  
For a long time neither one of them spoke. Severus broke the silence with one word.  
  
"Oh."  
  
"You promised you wouldn't get upset," Lily warned.  
  
"I'm not upset," Severus said in an obvious attempt to keep his voice even. "I just… I wasn't expecting this. I did not realise you were… involved with anyone else."  
  
"I'm not. Only you."  
  
"But…"  
  
"It wasn't even a relationship. It was stupid. I was stupid. If I could go back in time I would do it all differently."  
  
A time-turner appeared on the side table but neither of them seemed to notice.  
  
"I… I see."  
  
Clearly, Severus did not consider Lily that kind of girl. He was as possessive then as he was now. It obviously troubled him that someone else had had her previously, before him, beaten him to the punch. For a Slytherin, second place was unacceptable. What was the phrase she had once overheard a group of Slytherins repeating? "If you're not first, you're last."  
  
Severus had not been first, so he saw himself as last, and it clearly troubled him. Her Severus was never used to being last, and it was clear that this had been the case in his adolescence as well.  
  
Lily spoke again. "It was at the end of last year, the House party to celebrate the end of OWLs and NEWTs. I was upset about… what happened, and I…" Her voice trailed off.  
  
"Who?" Severus asked in a dark voice.  
  
"It doesn't matter."  
  
"Who was it?"  
  
"Sev, I don't want you to get upset."  
  
"Just… please tell me, Lily. I know that you were a free agent, but… please tell me. We don't keep secrets between us."  
  
"I know we say that, but…"  
  
"But?"  
  
"But… I'm afraid you won't be able to keep your promise if I tell you."  
  
"Lily," he turned her in his arms and met her face-to-face. His look was pleading, as was hers. He was pleading with her to tell him, and she was pleading with him to stop asking. "Please."  
  
She hesitated and turned away from him. She whispered so softly that at first Hermione couldn't hear it. Neither could Severus, who crept closer to her and whispered in her ear, "Who?"  
  
This time, Lily spoke loudly enough for both Severus and Hermione to hear.  
  
"James Potter."  
  
Severus froze, the anger and humiliation and frustration clearly burning in his eyes.  
  
"James Potter?" he repeated. His voice was…cold.  
  
James Potter had once again bested Severus, and in the only area that truly mattered to him. Hermione braced herself. This would not be pretty.  
  
"Sev, please, I already feel bad enough about it as it is—"  
  
"Did he hurt you?" He gripped Lily's shoulders and turned her roughly to look at him. His look was… scary. "Did he force himself on you?"  
  
Lily shook her head. "No."  
  
"You wanted to?"  
  
She shut her eyes to avoid seeing his anger. "Yes."  
  
"You let Potter have you, no strings attached, just like that?"  
  
Lily looked offended. "First off, Potter did not 'have' me, it was entirely mutual. Second, he wanted a relationship but I wanted some time to think. And after I did, I decided that I didn't want a relationship with him. I wanted one with you."  
  
The impact of her words seemed to escape Severus. It was clear that he was only focusing on the first part of what she said, not the last.  
  
He got up out of the bed and pulled on his pants. Teenaged Severus was just as well-endowed as adult Severus.  
  
"Sev…" Lily pleaded, reaching for his arm. "Sev! You are making a big deal out of this over nothing. You promised you wouldn't get upset, and now here you are upset."  
  
"Forgive me for not realising that you were the kind of girl who…" He stopped himself.  
  
"The kind of girl who, what, Severus?"  
  
Lily's green eyes flashed angrily. Hermione recognised it; she had seen Harry look the same way too many times to count over the years. She could tell that the use of Severus's full name was a rare occurrence, for it stopped him in his tracks and caused him to turn around to face her.  
  
"Nothing," he muttered.  
  
"No, enlighten me, what kind of girl do you think I am?"  
  
"You know how I feel about you, Lily."  
  
"Do I?"  
  
"Of course you do! How can you not? I told you I love you, I told you that I've loved you since the first time I saw you, and you know that has not changed."  
  
"You're looking at me differently."  
  
He looked confused. "No I'm not."  
  
"Yes you are, you're looking at me like you don't recognise me." Lily's lower lip quivered. Severus made a move to embrace her but she raised her hand to him. "No! Don't touch me!"  
  
"Lily, please…"  
  
"Do you think I'm a whore, Severus?"  
  
"What? Of course not!"  
  
"You're acting like it. You're acting like I 'm a whore. That's what you stopped yourself from saying, isn't it?"  
  
"Don't put words in my mouth, Lily."  
  
"There's no need, I've heard the sort of words that come out of your mouth."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?" His voice darkened.  
  
"I think you know what it means."  
  
"You have it wrong, Lily." He was visibly angry now in a way he probably never was around Lily.  
  
"I wonder if I do."  
  
"The bloody Marauders, you have no idea what kind of people they are!"  
  
"Funny, they say the same thing about you."  
  
"And you believe them?"  
  
"Why shouldn't I? Why should I believe you?"  
  
"I'm your oldest friend, Lily, not to mention your boyfriend. Why wouldn't you believe me?"  
  
Severus looked truly stung.  
  
"Why can't you get over your hatred of them? They're good people."  
  
Something snapped in Severus. Being bested by James Potter, watching his girlfriend defend James to him after everything Hermione knew had happened between them, the isolation he felt both inside and outside his House, the looks people gave and the names people called him… it all flashed before him, and something snapped.  
  
"God damn it, Lily, I will not sit here while you defend them! I thought you were better than that, I thought you understood me, I thought you were one of the good ones. Not you too, Lily, not you too."  
  
"Sev—"  
  
"NO!"  
  
Severus was furious now, out of control the way Hermione had seen him only one other time, during her third year in the Shrieking Shack.  
  
"What do I have to do to prove myself to you, Lily Evans? What more do you want from me?"  
  
"I—"  
  
"They were harassing me, humiliating me, torturing me, and all you did was smile. I slipped and called you something unforgivable. God help me, I slipped. I will never, ever forgive myself for doing it and will never do it again. I apologised, I begged for your forgiveness, and you instead turned me, your oldest and best friend, away and ran right into the arms of that prat Potter, and not two seconds later you spread your legs for the bloke who gets off making my life a living hell!"  
  
"Now wait just a min—"  
  
"You have no idea how long I had dreamed about this moment!" Severus shouted, tears in his eyes. "You have no idea how long I have wanted you. Only you. I saved myself for you! Even after you left, I wanted to save myself in case you ever came back. Believe me, I have had opportunities, and I turned them down. For you. For you, Lily, it's all for you." His breathing became more erratic, his voice more frantic, and his words more jumbled. He paced as he spat them out, hands in his hair. "And now… Potter… not two seconds… sullied you… dirty."  
  
"Sullied? Dirty?" Lily said in a dangerous voice. She leapt from the bed and began pulling on her clothes, tears in her eyes. "I was afraid, I was so afraid, everyone warned me, I wanted desperately to believe that it wasn't true… how could you, Severus?"  
  
"Lily…"  
  
"You called me dirty once before, Severus. Or rather, my blood. Mudblood. That's what you called me. Dirty blood. Dirty person. And now that you've had me you feel like you can call me dirty again?"  
  
"No—"  
  
"Was this some sort of Slytherin house dare—fuck a Mudblood? Will you be high-fiving your mates in the common room after this? Was this some sort of fucking Death Eater initiation?"  
  
"NO!"  
  
Severus said the word with the anger and authority Hermione had seen far too many times as his student.  
  
"You know that's not what I am, Lily."  
  
"Do I? You just let slip that you think I'm dirty."  
  
"Not you, Potter, that prat pureblood Potter, is dirty and he sullied your good name by using you."  
  
"How is that any different than you using me?"  
  
"I did not and will not ever use you. I love you."  
  
"The hell you do." Fully dressed now, Lily stormed toward the door.  
  
"Lily, wait!" Severus ran over to her and grabbed her by the arm. "You know that's not who I am, that I don't think… that I would never…"  
  
"But that's just the thing, Sev. You have before and you just did again. I told you: I'm sick of defending you to everyone. And now you've gone and made me feel worse than ever. I am NOT proud of what I did with James. It was stupid judgment on my part. I wanted to be with you and I was with you. Who cares if he was my first—I wanted you to be my last. But now I know better."  
  
Severus looked lost for words.  
  
"Goodbye, Severus," Lily said coldly, ripping her arm from his.  
  
"Lily, no, please, no, not again."  
  
"Feeling's mutual, Severus. Not you, not again. Fool me once, shame on you, but fool me twice and shame on me. I'm done. Let go of me. This is goodbye."  
  
With that, she stormed out, leaving a stricken Severus in her wake._  
  
\--------  
  
Hermione felt herself being pulled through a tunnel of light and found herself perched on the bed facing the adult Severus, looking grave with tears welling in his eyes.  
  
"Oh, Severus," Hermione breathed, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him into a tight embrace.  
  
"That wasn't what I meant when I told her…"  
  
"I know, love, I know."  
  
"Now you see why I never showed this to Harry or anyone else. That day after our OWL was the day our friendship ended. It just took us longer to finally accept it." He sighed. "Six months after our final argument, she was in Potter's arms again and never left."  
  
She nodded. "I'm so sorry, Severus. I know that you had such high hopes for her."  
  
He shrugged. "She had become determined to see the worst in me, and it brought it out of me. I was obsessed with her. I loved her so much. Anyone else, I could have handled it, but… Potter…"  
  
Hermione squeezed him. "I'm so sorry, Severus."  
  
"Don't be," he said. "I'm not one for looking on the bright side of things…"  
  
"You don't say."  
  
"But," he continued, pinching her arse in retaliation. "But… I realise now that had I ended up with her, I would have missed out on something much better. Lily was the focus of my love for many years, but I have real love with you, real reciprocal love. It's… exponentially better than anything I did have or would have had with her."  
  
"You're certainly in touch with your feelings."  
  
"It's not a matter of feelings, it's a matter of analysing the situation in the proper light."  
  
"Right, of course." She sighed and pulled him tight against her, trying to reassure him that she thought no less of him.  
  
"You and Lily were young. Young people always misinterpret things like that. God knows Ron and I did at that age, hell, even younger than that. Pretty much our whole lives."  
  
Severus chuckled. "I did bear witness to a few rows between you over the years."  
  
"Did you?"  
  
"Only enough to see you stomp off in a huff or hear him whine about something or other."  
  
"Hmmm. Sounds about right."  
  
"Weasley… he was your first, wasn't he?"  
  
"My first proper boyfriend? Yes."  
  
"But not your first in… everything?"  
  
She hesitated. She didn't want to go into detail about it, and didn't want him upset. But he had been honest and open with her and shown her a memory that he had not shown anyone else. She owed him honesty in return.  
  
"No, he wasn't."  
  
This surprised Severus. The whole Gryffindor Golden Trio will-they-or-won't-they saga had been watched with great enthusiasm by many on the staff, though he himself had never been interested. How was he to know that years later he would be involved with Hermione Granger?  
  
He racked his brain and tried to remember the blokes he'd seen her with at Hogwarts. She had been the Bulgarian's date to the Yule Ball; he remembered Karkaroff making some crude comments about it at the time.  
  
"Krum?"  
  
She shook her head. "No, he was merely my date to the Yule Ball. Or rather, I was his. I hope you didn't believe any of the rubbish in Witch Weekly."  
  
"Do you think I ever read Witch Weekly?"  
  
She snorted. "No, I suppose not. Though wouldn't that be a delicious secret?"  
  
He thought some more. Who else had he seen her with? The big Gryffindor wannabe quidditch player who had assaulted her face under the mistletoe at Slughorn's party. He had had a good laugh watching her try to wrestle away from him at the party; she was in no danger of being actually assaulted so he had not intervened. He could have sworn he heard her use a Confundus charm to make her escape. He didn't think they had actually dated, but frankly he had more than her love life on his mind that year.  
  
"McLaggen?"  
  
"I'm insulted."  
  
As far as Severus knew, that had been the extent of Hermione's romantic entanglements. It had to be someone from Hogwarts, because she and Weasley did not become involved until the end of the war.  
  
"Who, then?"  
  
"Does it matter?"  
  
"My curiosity has been piqued."  
  
"I'm not sure it's such a good idea to tell you."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
She shifted. "I… I honestly think you will be upset if I do. I really don't want you to get upset. Not about this."  
  
"Why would I get upset?" He asked the question with less trepidation and warning than he had with Lily, but the conversation was turning dangerously familiar. "Did someone hurt you? Did someone-a snatcher, a Death Eater..." his voice became dangerously low, "force himself on you?"  
  
"No! God no. Nothing like that."  
  
Severus was relieved to hear that. "Hermione, I can assure you, I am no longer a lost and insecure and jealous seventeen-year-old boy. I can handle it."  
  
Really, he could. He would not be upset no matter who she named. Curious that she didn't seem to want to tell him. But he was an adult, master of self-control, and he could handle it now. She could name anyone. Unless, of course, it was—  
  
"Harry."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise all will be explained next time! For now, I will merely say that I am not "shipping" the characters.
> 
> Sorry, J.K. Rowling, but if Lily was as good and forgiving a person as everyone always said she was, she would have given Severus a second chance.
> 
> "Severus and Lily" is also the name of the song played in the background of most of the Prince's Tale scenes in Deathly Hallows, part 2. Beautiful piece of music worth listening to all on its own.
> 
> Coming Up: Deja vu, another trip down memory lane, and the closest thing we have to a lemon in this story.


	23. Harry and Hermione

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Never," he said emphatically, squeezing her and planting a kiss on her cheek. He pulled away a bit and cupped her tear-stained face in his hands. "Not for anything or anyone. I can't do this alone, do you understand me? I need you, Hermione, and I am not going anywhere. Ever." He punctuated this promise with a kiss to her forehead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friends, when reading this chapter, please bear in mind that Our Hero is not emotionally mature and has a history of completely losing his grasp on rationality when a Potter is involved.

She had spoken so softly he was certain he had heard her wrong.  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Harry."  
  
Or maybe he'd only wished he'd heard her wrong.  
  
"Potter?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
He shut his eyes, trying his damnedest to control his breathing. He knew, rationally, that this was not something to be upset about. _Oh please let this be some sort of horrible joke._  
  
"That isn't something to joke about."  
  
"What makes you think I'm joking?"  
  
"After seeing my reaction to Lily sleeping with a Potter, to then say that you slept with one…"  
  
"You asked. You said you would be okay with hearing the truth. I'm telling you the truth."  
  
He pulled away from her, extended his arms, and backed away slowly. The mask slipped back on. "I did not realise that you and Potter had been involved."  
  
 _Why was Severus referring to him as 'Potter'_ , Hermione wondered. They had been on a first-name basis for months now.  
  
"We weren't," Hermione said softly. "It was a one-off that we never spoke about afterward and never repeated."  
  
This was hitting far too close to home. Far too close to the painful memory he had only shared with her. He told himself that he was over it, willed himself to believe that he was over it. Harry Potter was not his father, he knew that intellectually. And it was along time ago. He was forty-five years old now, for fuck's sake. She was twenty-five. Who she slept with as a teenager should be of no matter to him. And there were others in between, he knew. Like Weasley.  
  
Potter. Weasley.  
  
 _What brilliant company to be in_ , he heard a voice say. _The_ voice. The one of his self-doubt and self-loathing, the one that he had banished from his mind the night of Hermione's birthday. The one that had not plagued him for months. He tried to will it away.  
  
"This isn't funny, Hermione."  
  
"I know it isn't."  
  
 _Always have to share your women with a Potter, don't you_ , said the voice.  
  
 _Shutupshutupshutup._  
  
"Why are you doing this?" he asked, his voice thick.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
 _All the women you love seem to take a fancy to humiliating you_ , said the voice. _They all get off on making you look like a fool._  
  
"Are you mocking me?"  
  
"Of course not, why would you even think that?"  
  
I thought he and Harry were becoming friends now, Hermione thought helplessly. Alright, maybe "friends" was a bit generous, but there had at least been a truce between them for some time, at least since her birthday.  
  
He stood from the bed and paced around the room, slowly and deliberately. It was eerily similar to what he had done with Lily, but this time he was more… controlled. Despite that, it was far more frightening. Professor Snape had always been most terrifying when he was eerily calm.  
  
 _Always coming second to a Potter, a day late and a knut short_ , said the voice.  
  
 _No_ , he thought, fighting the voice's taunts with an iron will. _I ought to give her the benefit of the doubt. She's forgiven a multitude of sins on my behalf. Her past has no bearing on our future.  
  
She's no different than Lily,_ said the voice. _You certainly do have a type._  
  
He shook his head. Just because both of the loves of his life had shagged a Potter first didn't mean that they were anything alike. Both times they'd chosen him in the end. He'd messed this up once, he wouldn't do it again.  
  
 _She's very different than Lily_ , he insisted to himself.  
  
 _She hurt you like Lily hurt you_ , said the voice.  
  
Severus paced furiously, his head in his hands as he wrestled with his inner demons. Hermione stood still, stricken, confused.  
  
 _He barged into her bedroom the first morning after you shagged her_ , the voice reminded him. _He's always got his hands all over her. They spend all their time together. She talks to him about things she can't talk to you about._  
  
She's been completely faithful to me!  
  
You don't satisfy her. Only Potter can. Only Potter does. Just like with Lily.  
  
She's nothing like Lily!  
  
Is she now? Muggle-born Gryffindors with a talent for potions, lost causes, and fucking you? She's the same. And she'll hurt you the same. Because just like her, she can't keep her hands off of him.  
  
No she won't.  
  
Not if you hurt her first.  
  
"Severus?"  
  
 _You always knew that Potter was no different than his father_ , mocked the voice. _Here he is, making a fool out of you again.  
  
No, it's different this time, Potter and I were never in competition for Hermione, she chose me. She loves me. Lily never loved me. Hermione loves me._  
  
"Severus?"  
  
 _Do you even know what it's like to have a woman writhing beneath you who isn't mentally comparing your performance to that of a Potter_ , the voice asked.  
  
"Severus!"  
  
 _Bet she moaned louder with him, it taunted.  
  
But she loves me…  
  
No woman who loves you would ever debase herself with a Potter._  
  
"Severus!" Hermione finally leapt off the bed and stopped Severus in his tracks, bracing his forearms with her hands.  
  
"Not you too, Hermione," he whispered, sounding betrayed.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Not. You. Too." He pulled out of her grasp and turned away. After a few moments he turned around. "I will not go through this again. Not again. I thought you were different."  
  
"I am different, Severus. I love you. You know that I love you. I tell you every single day. I'm raising more than a dozen children with you. I would not do that with anyone else. Not even Harry. Do you think Lily would have done this with you? I love you."  
  
He shook his head. "How can you say that when there are still traces of him on you and in you?"  
  
"Traces? What the hell are you talking about?"  
  
"I see you. You're always touching each other."  
  
"We're friends! And he doesn't touch me the way you do. We haven't… it happened over seven years ago. Tell me, Severus, how many women have you been with in the past seven years? How many were paid for?"  
  
"None! How can you say that, knowing where most of my girls have ended up? Do not turn this around." His voice was low and dangerous.  
  
"How dare you stand here and pass judgment on me, given that your love life has mostly consisted of pining for a ghost?"  
  
"Tell me, _Miss Granger_ , are you the only witch who has slept with both male members of the Golden Trio? Or were there other tarts out there who share that honour?"  
  
Silence.  
  
Then a crack and an angry red mark across his left cheek.  
  
The noise seemed to bring both Severus and Hermione back into themselves. Hermione cradled her stinging hand as tears streaked down her face, while Severus stood panting, looking at her like he'd never seen her before.  
  
"I'm leaving," he said flatly, his face immediately expressionless.  
  
"Severus, wait."  
  
She reached for his arm. He pulled it away.  
  
"Please don't go!"  
  
Without another look at her he turned on the spot and Disapparated.  
  
\-------  
  
Hermione fell onto the bed, in shock, wondering what the hell had just happened. Well, no, not wondering terribly. It was just as it had been with Ron. Once again, her close relationship with Harry Potter had got in the way. Here she was feverishly trying to explain herself, and he had called her a whore.  
  
Just like Rita Skeeter had.  
  
Just like Cho Chang had.  
  
Just like Ron had when he left.  
  
Well, not all of them said it in so many words, but it had been implied nonetheless throughout her life. She was bloody sick of it.  
  
The memory of it still chilled her to the bone.  
  
It was just like that cold, lonely night in the tent when Ron had accused her of sneaking around with Harry behind his back and then leaving her for dead. Only Severus didn't have a Horcrux to blame.  
  
\----  
  
Harry Potter.  
  
Harry bloody Potter.  
  
Harry bloody FUCKING Potter.  
  
The bar against whom all future partners would be measured. Fuck.  
  
Severus had Disapparated and begun walking without any idea of where he was going. All he could think of was confronting Potter, to demand to know the truth, to find out why he, of all people, had to be the one to ruin this for him.  
  
He found himself in front of a cottage in Suffolk, one he had neither seen nor heard of before, and yet he knew that this was Potter's house. He had been led here by some unknown force, directing his body when he could only feel anger and see red. Vaguely he remembered something he had come across in an obscure volume years ago about, of all things, love magic. There was an old magic that guided a wizard who had been cuckolded to the home of the man who had dishonored him. It allowed him to defend his woman and his honor. It delivered a wizard to the man with whom he planned to duel. It was rarely used anymore and could not be summoned consciously—it would come to the wizard who needed it.  
  
It was triggered by a deep feeling of betrayal.  
  
He would vehemently deny it if anyone ever said a word about it out loud, but he had come to consider Harry Potter a friend. A friend like his mother Lily had been. How could he have kept this crucial piece of information from him?  
  
What kind of friend does that?  
  
He approached the door of the cottage and rapped on it with an angry fist. He pounded and pounded until Harry wrenched it open, eyeglasses askew, hair even messier than it usually was. Had the boy ever owned a brush?  
  
"Severus?" He read his former teacher's face. It was twisted, insane with anger, not unlike the night he… that Dumbledore had been… that Dumbledore had died.  
  
"What's the matter? What's going on? Are the children alright? Is Hermione okay?"  
  
Without a word, Severus grabbed Harry by the shoulder none too gently and frogmarched him out to the front garden.  
  
"Severus—what's going on?" He fumbled in his pocket for his wand but Severus pulled him until they met eye-to-eye, black eyes boring, positively drilling, into the green.  
  
"What's the matter? What's happened?"  
  
"What's happened?" Severus hissed. "What's happened? You. _You_ are what's happened, Potter."  
  
"Since when do you call me 'Potter' anymore? What do you mean? Is there a problem with the house? The charity fund? The Ministry?"  
  
"No," he seethed. "There is no problem with the _house_ , or with the _fund_ , or with the bloody _Ministry_. There is only one problem, and it is with _you_." He tightened his grip on Harry's shoulder and unsheathed his wand.  
  
"Severus," Harry said, grasping Severus's wrists and pulling down his arms, "Tell me, what is going on here?"  
  
Severus pulled away from Harry and regarded him with a look of loathing that Harry had not seen since his sixth year at Hogwarts. He racked his brain, wondering what on earth he could have done to make Severus so angry. He hadn't interfered with his plans for the children. Had obeyed every command Severus gave him, had honored every request, had kept his secrets about his mother. Hadn't touched Hermione. Unless… surely Hermione hadn't told him about _that_ … had she? They had agreed that they would never…  
  
 _Uh oh._  
  
"You…" Severus seethed, trying to spit out words between deep, panting breaths. "You…"  
  
"Severus…"  
  
"You had her, didn't you?"  
  
Harry took a deep breath, swallowed. This was clearly news to Severus. He was clearly upset about it. Better stall for time.  
  
"What do you mean, 'had her'?"  
  
"You know damn well what I mean, Potter."  
  
"I'm afraid I don't."  
  
"You were always terrible at hiding your thoughts from me, Potter. Why you thought that would have changed with age is beyond me. You know what I am asking, and you know the answer, and I want to hear it from your lips directly."  
  
Harry sighed, hesitated, and spoke. "If you're asking me if Hermione and I were ever… intimate… in the past, then the answer is yes."  
  
A tendon in Severus's left temple twitched, but other than that he remained disturbingly still.  
  
"It was only once, in the last year of the war, we were both alone, and desperate, and in despair. I trust you understand what I mean?"  
  
"No, Potter, I do not bloody understand what you mean."  
  
"I would have thought Phineas Nigellus would have clued you in." Harry made a face of disgust. "I think he watched us."  
  
"For some reason, whether or not you and Hermione ever… it wasn't important at the time!"  
  
"So what makes it so damn important now? I'm with Ginny, you're with Hermione, all four of us are happy with our partners, and none of us want to switch, so what is the big deal? Do you still hold a candle for anyone you were intimate with in your teens or twenties?"  
  
There was no way in hell Severus was answering _that_ question.  
  
Taking his silence for acquiescence ( _Merlin, but Potter could be thick sometimes_ ) he continued. "See what I mean? Now why is this bothering you so much? It was once. In the past. A long time ago. Another lifetime ago. In a very different world."  
  
Severus scoffed at this. "Does Mrs. Potter know about this?" He asked with as much malice as he could muster.  
  
"About me and Hermione? Yes. It's not something we talk of often, but she knows, and she understands."  
  
"Does she?"  
  
"Yes. We had broken up. Hermione and I were on the lam. I never stopped loving Ginny, but, well, what happened… happened."  
  
"You treat it with such… flippancy."  
  
"Oh, come off it." Harry was angry now. "This was dead and buried. Why are you getting so angry? I admit it wasn't my finest hour, nor Hermione's, but it was over seven years ago. If my wife could get past it, when the memory was much more fresh and it occurred much closer to the time of our own relationship, at a time when we would have been together but for the war, why can't you when you're seven years removed?"  
  
"I do not share, Potter. I made that very clear to Hermione when this began."  
  
"You aren't sharing her, Severus. You never have. Hermione has been completely faithful to you. It would be completely and utterly out of character for her to be anything else."  
  
"I know that."  
  
"So why get so bent out of shape over something that happened years before you were involved or even contemplated becoming involved? When she would have been your student and you would have been her headmaster? When she was a teenager and you were in your thirties? When you were a double-agent and she was on the front line attempting to destroy the master of the dark side? When you and I both know it was impractical, and in fact impossible, to plan for the future? When all of us, you, me, Hermione, and everyone else, woke each day with the understanding that it might be our last? When romantic relationships were more of a liability than an asset? When the biggest favour you could perform for a loved one was to put as much distance between the two of you as was humanly possible? When it was downright inconceivable that you and she would ever have any sort of relationship?"  
  
Harry was panting as he finished his monologue, as was Severus. Severus would never, ever admit that Harry was making some good points.  
  
Never. He would never be satisfied with anything Harry bloody Potter told him. Not about this. Not about anything. He had to know the truth. Knew Potter would never hide it from him. Knew that he couldn't even if he tried. For he was hopeless, his mind incapable of any higher purpose.  
  
He had to know. He knew that he shouldn't look, should walk away, should compose himself and then plead for Hermione's forgiveness. But then again, Severus was never very good at doing what he should do. Not if he could help it. Not without cajoling.  
  
He grasped Harry's shoulders again and, with an intensity he had never felt before, cried out, " _Legilimens_!"  
  
\----  
  
 _The rain hammered relentlessly on the soft, worn canvas of the tent. The air was cold and musty. Harry sat in the opening to the outside, keeping watch, with a jar of Hermione's bluebell flames in his lap. They were God-only-knew where. Hermione had mentioned something about Haworth and the moors as they appeared in Wuthering Heights, and that it would be an ideal location because it would be isolated and yet fairly close to civilisation if they needed to replenish their food stocks. They had long since learned to multiply any food they came across, in order to make it last.  
  
The tent felt… empty.  
  
Ron had left them weeks earlier; stormed out in a fit of rage. It had been literally months since they'd seen another living soul. They had found the locket, but had not yet found a means to destroy it. No sword, no Basilisk fangs, nothing. They had to still find the cup and the snake and had nothing to go on. They had to find some artefact of Ravenclaw's, but they hadn't the slightest idea of what it could be. Hermione had spent hours poring over Hogwarts, A History, as well as every book she could acquire about the Founders before she left. Nothing. They were being hunted by Voldemort's entire army, and to ask for help from anyone would have been too dangerous.  
  
The situation was as bleak and dark as the weather outside.  
  
Hermione, seated cross-legged on one of the chairs inside, made a sound of frustration and hurled her book onto the ground, devolving quickly into sobs. Hermione was not one to cry, never had been, but ever since Ron disappeared things had been… difficult. For both of them.  
  
It wasn't so much the isolation as the fact that they had been abandoned, effectively left for dead, by the one person they were counting on to complete this journey with them. They had all agreed: destroy the Horcruxes, or die trying.  
  
Lately, it had seemed like the latter option would be the most likely.  
  
Harry sighed and got up from his post at the entryway to approach his friend. She looked… well, she was a bloody mess. Hair was sticking out in ways that completely defied gravity. Her eyes were blotchy and red. Her face was dangerously thin, her skin ashen, her nails ragged. They had been camping out in the forest for over three months, and it showed. Harry did not want to know how he looked; if he looked half as bad as Hermione, if he had deteriorated half as much as her, he didn't want to know._  
  
Severus found her virtually unrecognisable. Gone was the fire in her eyes, the fierce determination she had always worn on every aspect of her person. Gone was her flair, her energy, her… life. In her place was a dead woman, an inferius, a zombie.  
  
Severus had thought that the war had been difficult on him. This… this was very different from what he had been expecting, from what he had understood their situation to be. Phineas Nigellus had kept the details minimal, listening only for their location. He never mentioned how positively decimated the two of them looked.  
  
 _"Mione?" Harry asked cautiously, using a nickname that hadn't crossed his lips since third year.  
  
She drew her knees to her chest and buried her head in them. Her body convulsed with desperate, frustrated sobs.  
  
"Mione," Harry tried again. He was at his own breaking point, and he needed Hermione to be strong for him. If she lost hope, she who always had the answers, always had a plan, always knew where to look, where to go, what to do… then all hope was truly lost. Harry did not want to accept or admit that they were there yet. He couldn't.  
  
What point would it be to continue living if it were true?  
  
He pulled her down from the chair and into his embrace. They knelt on the hard wooden floor together, young knees already tired and achy and protesting against the floor, rain pounding on the canvas, with small droplets escaping ever so often, and just held each other. In each person's arms was the only other person, only other thing, that they still had in the world. They just had to make it through this. Had to.  
  
"Will it ever end?" Hermione asked through the tears and sniffles.  
  
"Somehow," Harry mumbled.  
  
"I mean… I don't know if I can do this anymore," Hermione wailed. "I'm sorry, Harry, I just… I don't know how to go on."  
  
"We'll find a way, Hermione," Harry said in an exhausted voice. "We always do."  
  
She shook her head. "How? How? We don't know where the bloody sword is. We don't know where half the bloody Horcruxes are. We don't even know what the last one is. Anyone who could possibly help us is either dead or in hiding. And Dumbledore," she spat out the name, "gave us absolutely nothing to go on. A book of children's stories? An old snitch? A bloody_Deluminator?"  
  
 _What the hell is a Deluminator_ , Severus wondered.  
  
 _"Ron was right, it's nothing, all nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing is all we have. We have nothing to live for but getting caught and tortured and killed. We have no friends left in this world. We have no way of obtaining information. We have nothing, Harry, nothing!"  
  
Harry tightened his hold on his friend. He had never seen her, or anyone, for that matter, so distraught and hopeless._  
  
Neither had Severus, who had spent much of his life distraught and hopeless.  
  
 _"Are we even alive anymore, Harry? Are we even real? Is this life?"  
  
"Of course it is, Mione," Harry said, a twinge of fear in his voice. Hermione was never, ever one to question reality. "We're alive and we're real. You're still here, and I'm still here."  
  
"You'll leave, too," she whimpered.  
  
"Never," he said emphatically, squeezing her and planting a kiss on her cheek. He pulled away a bit and cupped her tear-stained face in his hands. "Not for anything or anyone. I can't do this alone, do you understand me? I need you, Hermione, and I am not going anywhere. Ever." He punctuated this promise with a kiss to her forehead.  
  
"But Ron said the same thing and he…"  
  
"But that's _not _what_ I'm _going to do," Harry said firmly. "Do you understand?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
"Tell me."  
  
"I und—understand," she replied.  
  
"That's my girl," he said. He pulled her face to his and kissed her on the forehead again, this time letting his lips linger. It felt good to feel the skin of another person beneath his lips again. It had been so long he had almost forgotten what it felt like. "Mione," he whispered. Then on the nose. "I didn't choose this mission, it was chosen for me. But you… you could have walked away. You chose this. You are the most courageous, intrepid, wonderful friend I could have ever asked for in this. For that, I will never, ever let you go."  
  
They embraced again. "I miss him," she whispered.  
  
He nodded. "So do I."  
  
She shuddered. "Do you miss Ginny?"  
  
He nodded again. When he spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. "Every moment of every day."  
  
"D'you think they're together, wherever they are?"  
  
"I… I don't know," Harry answered truthfully. "I like to think that they are, that they're taking care of each other, the way you and I are taking care of each other now."  
  
Hermione sighed. "Will we ever see them again, Harry."  
  
"We will," Harry said resolutely. "Whether in this life or the next, we will all be together again." He swallowed thickly. "I promise."  
  
He was speaking of more than just Ron and Ginny, and Hermione knew it.  
  
"Mione, don't give up on me. I can't do this without you," he whispered.  
  
"You're all I have left," she whispered to him.  
  
"So are you," he replied.  
  
They pulled apart a bit and looked into each other's eyes. In their world, their universe, all that existed was the two of them. Two people who lived eternally in the present—neither dwelling in the past, which was too painful to think of, nor the future, which they could not afford the luxury of thinking about. Two people clinging to each other for survival, desperate for hope.  
  
Distantly, the thunder rolled.  
  
Hermione clutched Harry a bit closer, and as they held each other he kissed her on the forehead once more. Then on each cheek. And then… well, it wasn't clear exactly what happened next. The memory turned a bit fuzzy at this point. All they knew was that their lips met tentatively and chastely, then more desperately. Distance between bodies disappeared. Inexperienced arms and legs intertwined. Articles of clothing were removed one by one. Thin bodies somehow fit in the large armchair after awkwardly climbing into it. The chair had more than enough room to fit two weak, skeletal figures who fought to get closer.  
  
They did not speak to one another, but thoughts roared through Harry's mind.  
  
'I miss Ginny. Hermione's here, she's real, and Ginny's a memory. I don't know if I'm going to make it out of this alive. For a few minutes, just a few minutes, let me think of something other than the war. Let me indulge in the pleasures that other teenagers do. I wish she were Ginny. But Ginny isn't here, Hermione is, and she feels good. This will change everything. This will change nothing. My life has been anything but ordinary—this is what ordinary people do, isn't it? When I kiss her, I think of nothing, and I like that. Let me think of nothing. Let me just feel. Let me just act. Let me just…be.'  
  
_Severus decided to go in all the way and perform Legillimency on Hermione within Harry's memory. Legilimency-within-Legilimency was nearly impossible, but could be done by someone with enough skill. Like him. _  
  
'I might die tomorrow. If everyone else disappears, do I still exist? Harry's here, and with him I exist, if only for a few minutes. Ron will be furious. Ron left, who gives a fuck what he thinks? This is so unlike me. This is exactly what I need. I need Ron. I need a warm body. I need to know I'm still alive and still whole and still human. Here, right here, I am.'  
  
That's what they were, really: two warm bodies clinging to each other, reminding each other that they were still alive, still breathing, still human in an inhuman world.  
  
The coupling was frantic and inexperienced. It was desperate and pleading.  
  
It was exactly what they needed.  
  
_Severus watched his lover make love with another man, the son of the man he hated. He looked so much like James at that age, even with the weight loss and other effects of stress on the body. It was like watching James Potter make love to Hermione.  
  
The thought should disgust him, pull him into a rage. Instead it… it didn't.  
  
This wasn't his Hermione. His Hermione made love with her eyes open and firmly locked with those of her partner, making soft moans of pleasure. This Hermione kept her eyes screwed tightly shut, averting the eyes of her partner, and made low grunts. His Hermione knew exactly what she wanted and when she wanted it. This Hermione looked tense and submissive. His Hermione kissed and caressed as she moved. This Hermione clung to her partner as if he were a life raft. His Hermione vocalised her pleasure during sex. This Hermione seemed to feel only release. _  
  
When they finished, they just held each other for a long while. They said nothing as they drifted off to sleep. In the morning, Hermione would wake first, disentangle herself, and quickly retrieve her clothing. Harry would find her sitting at the entrance, head in a book, back to him, as he did every morning, as if nothing had ever happened. Harry would prepare her a cup of tea and leave it by her side without a word, like he did every morning, as if nothing had ever happened.  
  
They had found release with one another. Each needed something from the other. They would never need it again._  
  
\------  
  
Inside the cottage, through the window, Ginny and Ron watched the scene unfold. Harry had placed a silencing charm on the window months ago to keep outside sounds out; they had learned the hard way that a loud lorry or other sudden noise outside was enough to wake James and, by extension, his parents. So though they were only a few feet away, the interaction played out in complete silence.  
  
They watched as Snape railed against Harry, who, for once in his life, responded calmly and rationally in the face of an irrational Snape.  
  
"Is Snape going to kill Harry?" Ginny asked nonchalantly, rocking a fussy James. She might have been asking Ron if he thought it might rain later.  
  
"Doubt it," Ron said. "Hermione will kill him if he does."  
  
Suddenly the two men outside began staring into each other's eyes intensely, expressionlessly, and remained that way for a long time.  
  
"What are they doing?" Ron asked.  
  
Ginny considered for a moment. "Don't suppose Snape is watching Harry's memories, do you?"  
  
"Maybe Harry is watching Snape's?"  
  
"He's still standing with all his parts intact, isn't he? Can't be. Must be the other way round."  
  
"Wonder what's going on."  
  
"He'll tell us once he gets back in."  
  
" _If_ he comes back in."  
  
"You know better than to think that, Ronald. Besides, if Snape wanted to kill him, he would have done so by now, and would have made sure we weren't here to witness it."  
  
"True." They watched for a bit longer before Ron spoke again. "Do you think he knows we're watching?"  
  
"He must. He's Snape. He notices everything."  
  
\-----  
  
Severus was panting hard as he withdrew from Harry's memories, as if he had run a long distance. So was Harry. Legilimency performed for more than a minute or two caused great physical and mental fatigue. Both men wearily settled themselves on the stone fence surrounding the cottage, neither quite meeting the other's eye.  
  
Harry had had no desire to re-live that experience, or most of his time in that tent. He vowed to never set foot in a tent ever again after that year, and he meant it. He had banished this memory from his mind and never let himself think on it. He didn't want to.  
  
Severus felt as if he'd been slapped in the face.  
  
 _Had to go and think the worst of her, didn't you_ , the voice derided him. _Had to accuse her to her face. Had to interrogate her about something that was none of your damn business. Couldn't be bothered to give the benefit of the doubt to the one sodding person in this world who saw you as a real person, not as a Death Eater and not as a teacher._  
  
What had he done?  
  
 _You accused and insulted and berated the one person who ever loved you in your entire life_ , the voice answered. _You hurt the one person who approached you with no ulterior motive. You fucked this one up royally._  
  
He had to see her. Had to make this right. He would do anything she wanted, anything she asked, without question.  
  
 _Too little, too late_ , the voice mocked in an almost singsong tone.  
  
"Harry…" Severus said in a brittle voice. He wanted to Apparate but was too shaken to do it without splinching himself. He dug deep into himself and retrieved some of the techniques he used to use to steady himself enough to Apparate after meetings with the Dark Lord. Controlled breathing. Picture a calm, dark lake late at night, stars reflected on the surface of the water. Breathe in, breathe out.  
  
"Severus," Harry spoke. "I'm very sorry we never told you. Honestly, it's something we both wanted to forget. It was a lapse in judgment. We took no precautions. It was pretty uncharacteristic for both of us. Our hearts belonged to other people. We both felt as if we betrayed those people. Please don't think to badly of us."  
  
Severus shook his head. "No, I…" He was still working hard to steady himself. He scrambled to find words but none would come.  
  
"I know," Harry said. "Once, long before we got together, I walked in on Ginny snogging Dean Thomas in a corridor. I had no claim to her back then, and in fact was convinced I'd lost my chance with her for good. Dean was my roommate and a dear friend. She was just as into him as he was into her, and she was snogging him just as fiercely and passionately as he was snogging her. And yet… I wanted to rip him limb from fucking limb for what he was doing to her."  
  
Severus remembered that relationship well. He had caught the amorous couple more than once in various alcoves and closets around the castle that year. Which was odd; students in relationships with members of the same House often got off in the relative safety their own common rooms; only inter-house lovers dared to risk discovery in the corridors. Especially nights when Severus had been wandering the corridors.  
  
"Is there a point to that rambling diatribe about the adolescent fumblings of two randy Gryffindors?"  
  
"When our hearts are at stake, we lose our heads."  
  
That was an understatement.  
  
"Look," Harry said. "I know you probably hate me and always have and probably always will, regardless of what I say or do. I know that you put up with me now for the sake of the children and for the sake of Hermione. I'd like you to consider me a friend, but I can accept that that may never happen. And if our roles were reversed, and I learned that my girlfriend had slept with the one person I despised more than anyone else, I'd probably react like this, too. Honestly, Severus, it was very Gryffindor of you to come here, demanding that I come out and face you, defending your honor. And hers."  
  
The attempt at levity did not go over well with Severus, and Harry continued speaking quickly.  
  
"Anyway, now you know what happened. Hermione's very sensitive about it, she isn't proud that it happened by a long shot. I hope you won't take it out on her, and that you'll understand the situation. I think you of all people could."  
  
Severus still said nothing. He felt calmer now, somehow. He was almost ready to Apparate.  
  
"I'll… give you your space. Come inside if you need to talk. And, well, thanks for not killing me."  
  
Harry got up to leave. He made it halfway up the drive before turning around.  
  
"Just so you know, Severus… I've never seen Hermione look at anyone the way she looks at you."  
  
Severus stood up and turned away from Harry.  
  
"You're wrong," he said, just loud enough for Harry to hear. "I don't hate you."  
  
Without another word, he thought hard of the bedroom where he'd left Hermione back at Grimmauld Place and Disapparated.  
  
\--------  
  
Severus was thrown back to the courtyard in front of the house. He shouldn't have been; all wards were set so that he could Apparate and Disapparate into any room at any time, should he need to in an emergency. Hermione must have overridden him. He had added her as someone who had absolute control over the wards, should something happen to him. He was not counting on it; all his old enemies were dead and the Wizarding world as a whole saw him as a hero for some reason, but he had spent too many years as a spy to not plan for a contingency. Old habits were hard to break.  
  
Clearly Hermione was upset with him and meant to keep him from Disapparating back into their room. Fine; he would walk through the front door, climb the stairs, knock on the bedroom door, fall to his knees, and beg her forgiveness. It wouldn't be the first time he'd done so in order to win back the love of a woman he'd hurt.  
  
When he reached the bedroom, he found that it was unlocked and Hermione was gone. Something seemed… off about the room. The desk seemed clearer and something was different about the layout of the books on the shelves, but for the moment he dismissed it.  
  
He descended the stairs and went into the kitchen, where he found Luna sitting with a mug of tea in her hands, looking thoughtful.  
  
"Luna, have you seen Hermione?"  
  
She shook her head. "I heard someone leave earlier. I actually assumed it was you."  
  
Severus frowned. Hermione must have gone out to clear her head. He had said some terrible things to her. He thought of sending his Patronus to her, but decided against it. If she needed time and space, he would give her time and space. It was a Saturday; the duties of the adults in the house on weekends was limited merely to minding the children. No lessons. He could cover for her today.  
  
But as the hours ticked by and day turned into evening and into night, there was no word from Hermione. Frowning, Severus decided to go to the floo. If she was planning to go anywhere else, she would have, at the very least, informed Harry. He felt a twinge of pain at the thought that she wasn't speaking to him, but put it out of his mind for now. He knew he deserved it.  
  
Kneeling before the fire, he flooed Harry's home.  
  
"Harry!" Severus hissed. When he received no response, he shouted, "Potter!"  
  
Harry knelt at the fireplace warily, as if wondering what infraction he had committed now. "Yes?"  
  
"Where's Hermione?"  
  
"Wherever you left her, I would imagine."  
  
"You haven't heard from her?"  
  
Harry furrowed his eyebrows. "No. Should I have?"  
  
Severus sighed. This wasn't a good sign.  
  
"She hasn't been home all day, and I haven't heard from her. I know that if she was planning to stay elsewhere, she would likely let you know…"  
  
"But given the subject matter of our conversations today, I could see her wanting her space," Harry mused, finishing Severus's thought for him. "Have you tried sending her a Patronus?"  
  
Severus shook his head. Why hadn't he thought of that? "I'll do it now." He hesitated before leaving. "Harry… you don't suppose something happened to her, do you?"  
  
Harry shook his head. "No, I'm sure she's fine." He gave Severus a faint smile. "Really."  
  
Severus closed the floo, whispered a message to his Patronus inquiring after her well-being, and sent it off. The doe returned to him a few minutes later. He scowled at the Patronus and sent it again, and again it returned. Patronuses only returned to the sender if they had been unable to deliver the message, which meant that Hermione was not within its range.  
  
Which meant that Hermione was no longer in Britain.  
  
He trudged up the stairs and inspected their bedroom, properly this time. He hadn't been inside it all day. He noticed that the room was indeed missing things. Her books were gone, as were all items of clothing and photographs. He walked into the bathroom; her never-ending pile of hair products was gone-he could see the counter for the first time in months. The entire room had been cleared of all things Hermione.  
  
Severus heaved a heavy sigh and staggered against the doorway. He understood now. Hermione had left him. Hermione had left them. Hermione was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Voice-Severus's self-doubt that leads him to make terrible decisions-first appeared in Chapter Five (Philanthropic Gestures) and last appeared in Chapter Thirteen (Many Happy Returns) when Severus banished it during Hermione's birthday. It never really left.
> 
> Coming Up: Severus sulks, Ron regifts, Leo overhears something about his sister that spurs him into action, and we learn why Ron and Hermione really broke up.


	24. Point Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Most nights he was tormented by the voice recounting his errors and mocking his stupidity. He couldn't shut it up. Severus never was very good at blocking out truthful statements, and these were no different.

"This is just… completely unlike her," Harry said, pulling his hands through his already-messy hair.  
  
"Maybe she just needed to, I dunno, cool off?" Ron suggested.  
  
Harry gave his friend a sideways glance. It had been two days and no one had seen or heard from Hermione. To the best of their knowledge, she hadn't contacted any of their friends or her family. She hadn't been seen in Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, Hogwarts, St. Mungo's, or the Ministry. According to Severus, she was likely no longer in Britain. Still, it paid to check.  
  
"I'm worried about her," Harry said grimly.  
  
"She'll be fine," Ron said.  
  
"Will she?" Harry stood up and paced around before the hearth. He and Severus had been in touch regularly since Hermione's disappearance. Harry had taken over Hermione's lessons and many of Severus's administrative and legal guardianship duties while he worked himself to exhaustion trying to find her.  
  
Hermione had left, but Severus was unwilling to just let her walk away. Not without a fight. For that, he had Harry's full and unwavering support, as he always did.  
  
"Yes," Ron said resolutely. "She will." He stood up and walked over to where Harry stood looking out the window as if he expected Hermione to walk up the drive any moment. "Look, mate, I don't like that she's run off any more than you do, and I agree that this isn't like her. But… Hermione can take care of herself. She won't do anything dangerous, and she wasn't taken by anyone, she left on her own. It's Mione—she doesn't do anything without first considering the consequences, she doesn't take unnecessary risks. Hell, she kept us both alive during that last year. Trust her."  
  
Harry gave his friend a wan smile. "I know she can take care of herself, it's just not like her to disappear on me."  
  
"She didn't disappear on you, mate."  
  
Harry nodded. "I know."  
  
"What exactly happened between them that made her leave?"  
  
Harry hesitated. Ron knew about him and Hermione, but it wasn't a subject that they liked to talk about, for obvious reasons. It was a mark of the strength of their bond that all three had come out of this twisted triangle with their trust and friendship intact.  
  
He had told Ginny, but kept it brief. She had never held it against him (they were, after all, broken up at the time) but like her brother, it was best just to not think or talk about the subject.  
  
"The past," Harry said, hoping that Ron would understand and he wouldn't have to spell it out.  
  
For once in his life, Ronald Weasley understood a subtle hint. He nodded and looked away.  
  
Neither of them spoke for a long time, looking out the window as if it were a crystal ball that would show them the way.  
  
"So Snape found out about it, and they had a row, and now she's gone?"  
  
Harry nodded. "Pretty much."  
  
It was Ron's turn to nod now. With a look of determination that rarely crossed his face, he turned and said, "I have to go."  
  
Harry nodded, assuming he was going to the shop. "Let me know if you—"  
  
"Hear anything. I know, mate." He clapped his friend on the back and stepped into the floo.  
  
\------  
  
One thought, and only one thought, had coursed through Severus's mind for the past two days.  
  
 _How could I have fucked this up so badly?_  
  
The voice, the one he had successfully silenced for so many months, was always ready with some sort of quick reply. He knew that he ought not to let it bait him, but… it was so difficult to ignore the blasted thing. Not when it was almost always right.  
  
He was out of ideas. He had checked everywhere he could without having to stay away from Grimmauld for any significant period of time. He sat on the settee facing the fire, as if he expected Hermione to emerge from it as if nothing had happened. He knew his hopes were futile. They had been his entire life.  
  
First Lily. Then his mother. Now Hermione. Would he never keep the women he loved and who loved him? Was he destined to turn everything he touched to ash?  
  
His head jerked up as he saw the fireplace glow to life in a brilliant green. Dare he hope that it would be Hermione, come back to forgive him, or at least yell at him and curse him? He would much rather be at the receiving end of a jinx from her than his present state.  
  
The figure stepped out of the hearth. Of course he was never that lucky. It was Ronald fucking Weasley. Of course. It was only a matter of time.  
  
"Come to gloat, have you?" Severus sneered at him. "Or are you here to hex my bollocks off for hurting your friend?"  
  
"Hardly," Weasley said, coming to sit in an armchair to the right of the settee on which Severus sat. "You and I need to talk."  
  
"Of the many important things that demand my time, Weasley, talking to you is not one."  
  
"It seems you have time for it, Snape, because this is absolutely necessary."  
  
Severus gave a cruel, humourless laugh. "I see. It is, of course, necessary to come to tell me that I have royally hurt your friend, to the point that she has actually left, and that you are now here to defend her honour."  
  
"You know, Snape, for someone who is so bloody intelligent you can really be a right idiot sometimes."  
  
"Don't think I haven't realised that, Weasley. When it happens, I often wish I had your mind. Failure is far, far easier to bear if there is no aptitude or expectation of success."  
  
"I won't pretend to be an intelligent man, but I know daftness when I see it, and right now it's staring me right in the face, hooked nose and all."  
  
"Taking digs at my appearance, Weasley? I'm wounded."  
  
"You are wounded, Snape. So is Hermione. That's why I'm here."  
  
"Where is she?" Severus said, his sarcasm and biting words forgotten. "You've seen her?"  
  
"Of course I haven't," Weasley said, "That's why I came to talk to you."  
  
"Then how do you know she's hurt?"  
  
"She ran away, didn't she?"  
  
The air was thick with tension as both men, one bright as the other dark, stared at each other. Finally, Severus spoke. "Yes, she did."  
  
Weasley relaxed back into his chair. He addressed the ceiling as he spoke.  
  
"How much do you know about our activities in the last year of the war?"  
  
Severus blinked in surprise. He knew more than he had ever let on, but to walk through everything he knew at the time and had learned since… bloody hell that was going to be a long conversation.  
  
Weasley seemed to realize this and waved him off. "Sorry, that's kinda vague, isn't it? You know that we spent the last year of the war, Harry, Hermione, and I, meandering through Britain in search of both Voldemort's Horcruxes and ways to destroy them." Severus nodded. "You are probably also aware that we had no bloody plan of what to do." Severus nodded again.  
  
Weasley took a deep breath and continued. "What is not commonly known is that about three months into our search and about a month into our exile in the tent, I… I walked out on them. I abandoned them in the middle of their search." He swallowed. "I left them for dead."  
  
Severus had known this, though he had only learned through Hermione's story and Harry's memories. It was not in any of the accounts of the war or the self-serving biographies of the Golden Trio. He relaxed his gaze just a little bit but kept his arms tightly folded.  
  
"It was… it was a very difficult situation. We were alone, marked for death, with no means of communicating with the outside world, and we had this impossible mission on our hands that we had no tools to carry out. We were starving and cold and carrying around that locket to keep us safe. One night, I just… snapped. And I cut and run.  
  
"Hermione was devastated by what I did. I marched to the door of the tent and asked her if she was coming with me. I gave her a split second to make a monumental decision of whether or not she would abandon the mission, abandon Harry, abandon everything and leave the fate of the Wizarding world to chance. I knew she wouldn't, because it's Hermione and she's a woman of commitment, and I said some harsh things to her and left. Well, I didn't just say harsh things. I accused them of having an affair, of her loving him over me, of her choosing him over me. It wasn't true then, and it's not true now.  
  
"I did not find them again until weeks later, the night you left the sword for us to find. Maybe you even saw me. I don't know."  
  
Severus had seen Weasley approach that night. He had been about to jump in and save Potter's wretched neck from drowning when he saw Weasley emerge from the woods and head for the pond. It had been the only time Severus was ever glad to see Ronald Weasley, for it had allowed him to remain unseen and given him cover to Disapparate. Had Weasley not appeared, the night, and the war, might have ended very differently.  
  
"Anyway, Hermione and I, well, we never got past that. We did reconcile, and she did forgive me, and we did finally begin a proper relationship after the war ended. Emotions were high and it was nice to have just a bit of bloody normalcy, know what I mean? But she never did fully trust me. I had left her hanging, alone, when she probably needed me the most. Hell, I know that's when she needed me the most. I cut and run when things got hard. I left her, plain and simple, even as she followed me and cried out my name to try to get me to stay.  
  
"Beyond the pain of that, though, was the pain of me questioning her love and fidelity and commitment when I had no basis for it. I was consumed with my own fears and insecurities, and I took them out on her. I think the pain of me losing faith in her was even worse than the pain of me leaving her, and I'm certain it is that pain that finally separated us for good.  
  
"I regret it every day of my life, because in that one moment, I lost her forever."  
  
Severus understood the pain of that particular kind of regret, and knew that Weasley probably knew that he knew.  
  
"Snape, don't make the same mistake I did. She didn't betray your trust. She was not unfaithful. She was in an impossible situation, as were we all, and in a moment of weakness or fear or whatever it was, she clung to the only other person in the world, as far as she was concerned. She did not deserve to be punished for it then, and she certainly doesn't deserve to be punished for it now, seven years later, by someone who was not even in her life at the time."  
  
Severus hated, hated, that Ronald Weasley was right about something for once in his life.  
  
 _He knows her better than you ever will_ , the voice said cruelly. _'Knows' her in every sense of the word._  
  
"Why are you telling me all of this, Weasley?" Yes, Weasley was a Gryffindor and they had a terrible habit of doing noble things and imparting important information without so much of a thought as to recompense, but being the Slytherin that he was, Severus refused to believe that this boy, the boy who loved the woman Severus loved, would tell him anything out of the kindness of his heart.  
  
"Because," Weasley said, "Hermione loves you. Not me, you. I told you, I have to live with that. I have to live with my failures with her for the rest of my life. But more than I want her to be with me, I want her to be happy. You, for some reason, made her very happy for a very long time. Maybe you can make her happy again, maybe you can't. I don't know; I have no idea what you said to her."  
  
"Nothing that should ever be said to her," Severus muttered.  
  
"But even if you can't make her happy, you are the only person who can find her."  
  
Severus gave a derisive snort.  
  
"I would if I could, Weasley."  
  
"You can and you will."  
  
Weasley approached him and fumbled in his pocket, handing him an object. Severus looked and saw that it was a small silver cylinder with a small button on one side.  
  
"What the devil is this?"  
  
"A Deluminator," Weasley replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.  
  
"What the hell is a Deluminator?"  
  
Weasley took the object from Severus's hand and clicked the button. Instantly, the light from all lamps floated into the object and snapped it shut, drowning the room in darkness. With another click, the light floated out again toward the lamps like little dancing suns.  
  
"Lovely trick," Severus mocked, "But would you mind sharing how the fuck this is supposed to help me find Hermione?"  
  
"I can't really explain it," Weasley said. "And I'm not sure I should. Dumbledore left it to me in his will. Said that he hoped that when things seemed most dark, it would show me the light. Well, as I said, I walked out on them. On her. I regretted it immediately but couldn't find my way back to them. Hermione's wards were too good and Harry insisted on a very erratic schedule of shuffling them all over Britain. The goal was to never be found by anybody, and it worked, as most things do when Hermione is in charge.  
  
"This," Weasley said, handing it back to Severus, "helped me find the light when things were most dark."  
  
"So you're going to give me the bloody thing and not tell me how to properly use it?"  
  
Weasley nodded.  
  
He fucking _nodded._  
  
"Well I'd like to say that you've been a great help, Weasley, but…"  
  
"I don't think it works if you know what to expect!" Weasley protested. "Dumbledore didn't tell me what it was for, or how to use it, and probably for a reason. He could have put in the will what it was and how it was used, but it was Dumbledore—why be direct if you can speak in a riddle? I nearly threw the bloody thing out, but I figured he knew what he was doing and kept it. Good thing I did."  
  
"But Weasley, if I don't know how to use it, how can I hope to find her?"  
  
Weasley hesitated. "It doesn't work when you want to find her. It only works when she wants you to find her."  
  
"But what if…" Severus stopped himself. He would not betray weakness or vulnerability to Weasley. This was bad enough.  
  
"I know," Weasley said, filling in the blank for himself, an impressive achievement for him on its own. "Hopefully, you won't have to find that out. But you may have to wait awhile."  
  
Severus was very good at waiting for things to happen, especially good things. He'd waited years, decades, for good things to happen. He could do this.  
  
"If you are wrong, Weasley…"  
  
"I know, they will never find my body. But trust me, I think this'll work. Just keep it close to you at all times—when it comes, if it comes, you'll have to act quick. But you'll know what to do when it does. Trust me, if I could figure it out, you can."  
  
He walked toward the fireplace and grabbed some floo powder out of the clay pot on the mantle.  
  
"Weasley," Severus called to him as he stepped inside. Weasley met his eye.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
Weasley nodded at him. "You bring our girl home," he said as he dropped the powder and disappeared.  
  
Severus stared at the object in his hand. He clicked it open and shut over and over. The light floated in and out of it, like a flash bulb going on and off in rapid succession.  
  
 _I must be stupider than him to believe that this ruddy thing might hold the key to finding her_ , he thought to himself.  
  
 _You are_ , the voice mocked.  
  
\-------  
  
Harry flooed in an hour or so later to find his former professor sitting on the settee, staring at something in his hands. Cautiously, he approached and recognised the object between his fingers. Severus looked up at him, a silent question in his eyes, and Harry gave him the tiniest of nods. Yes, it would work, but only if she wanted it to work.  
  
For now, Severus decided, that would have to be enough.  
  
He stood and followed Harry up the stairs toward the attic. Regardless of the upheaval in his personal life, he had a responsibility to them, first and foremost. Tucking the Deluminator in his pocket, he compartmentalised the situation, put Severus away, and became Mr. Snape, teacher and legal guardian of the children upstairs.  
  
He hoped to God that Hermione wanted her to find him, because he was not in a position to search for her beyond what he'd already done. Much as he wanted to.  
  
\-------  
  
Leopold hadn't expected to hear anything on the subject, given his alias. But one day, in the sixth floor boys' loo, he heard it.  
  
First years were technically allowed in here, but it was widely understood to be the haven of seventh year Slytherins and always had been. Those from lower years who ventured in there whilst a discussion was going on learned the hard way that they were very much not allowed in there.  
  
He would have run to the one on the eighth floor, but sometimes you had to go when you had to go.  
  
Safely ensconced in the furthest cubicle from the door, the last sounds of the flush had died away when he heard footsteps and deep voices.  
  
Bugger, Leopold thought. He lifted his legs and crouched on top of the toilet. He hoped that they wouldn't check the cubicles before speaking. Fortunately for him, they didn't.  
  
"Tightest pussy I've ever had," one of them was saying as he entered. "Worth every fucking knut."  
  
"Aren't you afraid of catching something, though?" asked another, squeakier, voice dripping in curiosity and, was it… admiration? Envy?  
  
"Nah," said the first voice. "They have these spells, right, that keep them clean no matter what ruddy bloke fucks 'em."  
  
"So, what did you do? Fuck her?"  
  
"Better than just that," the first voice said. "Slapped her around a bit too, just to remind her of what she was and what she did to the proud name of our House."  
  
"And she… let you?"  
  
"Of course she fucking let me—I bought her and paid for her. You can do any fucking thing you want to a woman you've paid for," said the first voice knowingly, as if he were an expert who had done this his whole life. "Especially a Death Eater whore."  
  
Leopold's head shot up from where he hadn't noticed he was crouching. Death Eater whore?  
  
He could smell cigarette smoke in the air now. He willed himself not to start coughing.  
  
"How d'you know you have a real one? I mean you have to pay a premium for them, right? That's what Harper said."  
  
"Madam Lyudmila promised me a real one, said I could do anything I wanted to her, and she'd beg for more."  
  
"And?"  
  
Leopold could almost see the smirk through the cubicle walls. "Of course she did."  
  
The second voice let out a groan, or was it a moan? Leopold really didn't want to know. But he did want to know the girl's identity. Maybe it was someone he knew. Maybe it was… no couldn't be.  
  
"So, which one did you have?" asked the second voice eagerly.  
  
A puff of smoke. "Rosier."  
  
Leopold felt a sharp pang in the pit of his stomach. Fighting to keep a cry from escaping his mouth, he balled his tiny hand into a fist and bit down on it, squeezing his eyes shut. Not Brigita. Not Brigita. How could she let them do… that to her? The Brigita he knew was smart and strong and tough and protected him and Ermengarde fiercely.  
  
He had to find out the truth. Snape had said that she was alive and relatively safe somewhere. Was this his definition of safe?  
  
He couldn't trust Snape to tell him the truth. Knew better than that now.  
  
"Can't wait 'til the Easter hols," said the first voice. "Can't finagle a trip to Knockturn Alley 'til then."  
  
"How much do they cost?" asked the second voice.  
  
The response was dripping with disdain. "More than you can afford."  
  
Knockturn Alley. It sounded familiar. Near Diagon Alley, wasn't it? In London? How far were they from London? Leopold had already signed up to stay at Hogwarts for Easter. Even if he was going back, there was no bloody way he could walk out of Grimmauld Place without being noticed, least of all by him.  
  
And why hadn't she said anything about it? If Snape knew, Miss Granger knew too. Those two were joined at the hip. He didn't like thinking about the literal version of that, but now that he was twelve, the idea of a man and a woman joining at the hip was a thought that was beginning to invade his mind more and more each day. It wasn't unpleasant, but it was inconvenient. Had Snape told her not to say anything? Probably. But since when did she obey him? She treated his rules as guidelines more often than not. He'd heard them row. And he'd heard them 'make up' once, late at night over the Christmas hols, when they had stupidly forgotten to throw up a silencing charm. Bloody traumatising, that.  
  
He lost track of what the older boys were saying, his mind racing. He heard them leave, and waited a few moments before venturing out of the cubicle. Inching along the wall, he began to formulate a plan in his mind.  
  
He had to get to London.  
  
To Knockturn Alley.  
  
To a brothel in Knockturn Alley.  
  
Without any adults.  
  
And get his sister out of there.  
  
 _Their daring, nerve, and chivalry set Gryffindors apart._  
  
Really, a simple plan. For a Gryffindor, anyway.  
  
\-------  
  
Luna listened intently as Poppy gave her monthly assessment of the children's progress. They were stronger, healthier, and more interactive than they had been the month before. But there was still a long road ahead.  
  
She glanced sideways at Severus, who sat steel-faced as the mediwitch talked. She knew that he was doing a very good job of making it appear that he was listening and taking it all in, but he wasn't fooling her. When he was listening, he would interrupt to ask questions for clarification or make snide remarks. He would pierce the gaze of the person speaking. He would never just sit there, arms crossed, not speaking or nodding or anything.  
  
Luna had been telling the truth when she'd said that if someone just took the time to see Severus, really see him, he was easy to read as a book.  
  
Poppy was talking more to her than to Severus, so it was clear that she too knew how to read this man.  
  
Severus indeed was off in his own world at the moment. Three days, nearly, and Weasley's fucking toy hadn't brought any word of Hermione. His carefully constructed control was snapping apart.  
  
He missed her. And Luna knew it.  
  
The children were only told that Hermione was "away" and that she would be back eventually, but beyond that they knew nothing. Severus, Luna, and Harry found that they had to provide constant reassurances to the children. They had grown attached to Hermione, and they had been raised to know that people who left rarely came back.  
  
Try as he might, Severus couldn't be angry with her for leaving the children as abruptly as she had left him. He thought he should be—the witch had backed out on her commitment to them, something she swore she would never do. But, uncharacteristically, he found himself giving her the benefit of the doubt. Angry as she might be with him, she wouldn't abandon these children forever. She would clear her head and come back.  
  
If that was what she was doing, after all. This long without word was very unlike her. Not even an owl to let any of them know she was alive. Harry was becoming more and more on edge, reminiscent to Luna of her fourth year, when Voldemort was invading his dreams every night. He was that worried about her.  
  
Suppose she couldn't send word? Suppose she had somehow become hurt? Splinched herself whilst Apparating in a distressed state? Severus would have no way of knowing because he didn't fucking know where she was.  
  
When he found her, he would alternate between kissing her senseless and slapping her silly.  
  
As he sat there, seething behind his dispassionate mask, Poppy finished her assessment. Luna thanked her and led her to the floo. If Severus noticed they were leaving, he gave no sign.  
  
"Poor man," Poppy said as they reached the ground floor. Luna had debriefed her on arrival.  
  
Luna nodded. "He's hurting badly."  
  
Poppy clicked her tongue in sympathy. "So unlike Hermione to do this."  
  
"I think it'll be good for them, in the end," Luna said dreamily. "They don't know it now, of course. But maybe it needed to happen."  
  
Poppy shrugged. "I'm sure it did, dear." She was used to Luna Lovegood's pronouncements over the years and had learned that it was usually better just to play along.  
  
After Poppy left, Luna took delicate steps back into the kitchen where Severus was still sitting, still staring at the same spot. She tentatively took a seat to his left. He made no acknowledgement that she had joined him.  
  
For a long time they just sat there, side by side, neither speaking nor looking at one another.  
  
Severus looked tired. Hermione's sudden departure had worried several of the children. Between Luna and Severus, they were mostly able to calm them down, but the fact that Hermione had always been one of the ones to do so made things more difficult.  
  
Severus never did answer them when they asked when Miss Granger was coming back. Nor did he snap at them, as he might have back in his teaching days. He would just embrace them.  
  
And they embraced him back.  
  
And for now, that was enough.  
  
Thinking of that, despite her own sleep deprivation, Luna stood up, pushed in her chair, and came to stand behind Severus, who still made no acknowledgement of her. She leant forward and gently wrapped her arms over his shoulders and across his chest, giving him a small hug.  
  
Luna knew from her months in the cellar at Malfoy Manor the therapeutic value of a simple touch. She remembered how she and Dean Thomas would sometimes sit for days, holding hands with one another, keeping each other sane in the darkness, not a word passing between them. She knew Severus well enough now to know that he needed physical contact, that it kept him sane, and that the source of his comfort was missing.  
  
She also knew what was really bothering him.  
  
"She's alright, wherever she is," Luna whispered. "And she'll be back. Hermione never abandons anyone. She'll be back. She loves you and them too much to stay away."  
  
Severus did not speak, but as she withdrew and her arms brushed past his head, Luna felt the tiniest of nods.  
  
\-------  
  
Neville flooed in later that day.  
  
"Severus, I'm so sorry, I haven't heard from her, but if I can do anyth—"  
  
He ducked as a jar containing a milky purple substance smashed into the wall, just missing his head.  
  
"OUT!"  
  
\--------  
  
"Can you keep a secret?" Leopold asked Clara as they sat huddled in a dungeon alcove.  
  
"Of course, Leo," she said, giving him a smile. "You can tell me anything."  
  
"I… I need to go to London," he said. "By myself."  
  
She looked puzzled. "Why?"  
  
"I…" he trailed off. Regaining that vaunted Gryffindor courage, he said, "I have to do something. And I can't wait until the next school holiday."  
  
"Could your… could someone come and fetch you and take you there?"  
  
He shook his head. "I don't think they'd be happy with me doing it."  
  
"It's dangerous and against the rules," Clara said. "I mean we can't leave the castle grounds ever, not even for Hogsmeade weekends."  
  
"Clara…" he looked at her with pleading grey eyes. "I have to. But… I don't know how."  
  
She hesitated, and he could see what was going through her mind as clearly as if it were playing out right before him. On the one hand, she wanted to stop him from doing anything rash, wanted him to avoid breaking the rules, wanted him to stay out of trouble. On the other hand, she understood that he would not do anything like this unless it was really important.  
  
Above all, he knew that she wanted to know why. He just couldn't tell her.  
  
"Please," he whispered.  
  
With a firm nod, Clara took his hand. "Alright," she said. "I'll help you. If I remember correctly, there are a few things in the newest edition of Hogwarts, A History that might be helpful to us, though it won't be easy…"  
  
\---------  
  
"Harry, if you're going to pace, do it downstairs, please." Ginny's third-trimester voice was irritable. It was hard enough to fall asleep under perfect conditions, what with her son tap-dancing on her bladder every fifteen minutes. Her husband's muttering and pacing were not helping the situation.  
  
"Sorry, Gin, can't sleep," he said, seating himself on the bed next to her and rubbing her stomach. This only seemed to encourage the baby to press even harder on her bladder. And I was so sure James was going to be the problem child…  
  
"Pacing at…" she checked the time, "half-two in the morning isn't going to bring her back, Harry. Ron gave him the Deluminator. It's the best shot of finding her, and it's in good hands."  
  
"I know," he sighed. "I just—I hate feeling so out of control."  
  
"I know, love," she said, stroking his forearm both out of sympathy and to encourage him to please, please remove his hand so the baby might try to sleep.  
  
"I remember when Ron left, and we had no way of communicating with him, and we couldn't let ourselves be found, and there were snatchers and Death Eaters and Inferi roaming around. I just pushed it all out of my head and pressed on. Didn't let myself think about it. Now… it's all I can think about."  
  
"You didn't have the luxury of worrying back then," Ginny said. She knew what her husband's relationship was with Hermione and, more importantly, knew what it was not.  
  
"Worrying isn't a luxury."  
  
"Of course it is. If you're worrying, you're not doing, and if you don't have to constantly be doing something, you have time to worry about it. But if you're always on the move, always planning, always working toward something, you don't have time to worry. Worrying would be counter-productive.  
  
"You know when you wake up in the morning that you will live to see the evening. You didn't back then. You lived your life for the entire Wizarding world back then. You live it for yourself and your family now. You have the luxury of worrying about things now. So you worry about your friend, who is missing and left in distress. That's normal. That makes you human."  
  
"Human," Harry repeated, as if the word were foreign on his lips. Given that he had lived his entire life treated as the Messiah, she supposed that the problems of a mere mortal, problems he had no way of solving, would pose quite vexing. It was charming, actually.  
  
"Yes, Harry." She patted his side of the bed and he dutifully walked over to take his place next to her. "You are human. I wouldn't have you any other way."  
  
"Promise me," Harry said, "that you'll never do anything like this. If it were you out there and out of contact, I don't know… I don't think…"  
  
"Never," Ginny assured him. "I will never do this to you. We have children together. I couldn't walk away from that."  
  
"Hermione did. She and Severus basically have fifteen kids together, and she walked out on all of them."  
  
"It's not the same. It never will be."  
  
Harry shook his head. "I'm not so sure that's the case, Gin."  
  
"Trust me, if it was, Hermione never would have done it."  
  
Harry shook his head. "No, I know her, she really did think of those kids as her own. Hers and Severus's. Maybe that's why she's still gone-she thinks she walked out on them and is too ashamed to come back?"  
  
"I just wonder why she hasn't contacted any of us?"  
  
"That's what's so odd to me, Gin," Harry said.  
  
"And why she packed up all her things."  
  
"That seemed really out of character to me."  
  
"What do you reckon?"  
  
He shrugged. "Hermione's never had much confidence in this area-about love, relationships, that sort of thing. Maybe, given what they rowed over, she didn't think she could be around any of us. I mean, she's not a 'loose' girl yet within our little circle the only person she hasn't been with is Neville." His eyes widened as something clicked in his mind. "And now everybody knows about it."  
  
Ginny noticed her husband's change in demeanour. "What?"  
  
"I have an idea of where she might have gone."  
  
\---------  
  
Severus never slept well when the moon was full. Not that he was likely to get to sleep tonight, anyway.  
  
As Harry and Ginny talked late into the night in their bed, miles away, Severus curled up on his side of the bed, looking at the empty, untouched spot to his right. Three nights now it had lain empty. He reached his arm across and smoothed over the counterpane. Had this bed always been so wide? It had always felt the perfect size when she was in it with him. Now he just felt small.  
  
Most nights he was tormented by the voice recounting his errors and mocking his stupidity. He couldn't shut it up. Severus never was very good at blocking out truthful statements, and these were no different.  
  
Clutched in his right hand was the small Deluminator. He had kept it on his person ever since Weasley had brought it to him with his cockamamie story about how it once led him to Hermione during the war.  
  
Ordinarily, Severus would not trust such a story, or the motivations of the person telling it. But he was a desperate man these days.  
  
 _When things seem most dark, it will show you the light._  
  
Well, despite the full moon, things were pretty damn dark. Severus Snape could now proudly say that he had successfully driven the only two women who had been foolish enough to allow him into their hearts to take their pasts and throw it in their faces. To make them feel tawdry and dirty. To lose them for no reason other than his own insecurity.  
  
 _Quite an achievement to accomplish it twice in nearly thirty years_ , he thought drolly.  
  
 _You'd go for three but what witch would ever give you the time of day now_ , mocked the voice.  
  
He stared at the fire for a long time, and as it faded away into orange embers, so too did his eyes flutter shut and fall asleep.  
  
Whether five minutes or five hours passed he did not know, but in what felt like an instant later he heard it and sat bolt upright in bed with a gasp. It was barely a whisper, but at the same time it was as loud as a cauterwauling charm.  
  
" _Severus_."  
  
He looked down at the tiny silver cylinder, which was still clutched in his hand. It was pulsing in his hand, a soft blue light glowing then fading, glowing then fading. With each pulse of light, the whisper repeated itself.  
  
" _Severus_."  
  
It was her voice. It was as soft and sad, as an echo, and sounded like it was coming from a great distance, but it was her voice. Unmistakably.  
  
He thought about what Weasley had said about the device. When things seem most dark, it would show him the light.  
  
Severus clicked the button on the side. Instead of sucking in the last bits of firelight or moonlight, and instead of light rocketing in and out of the device, a small bluish-white orb of light appeared, engulfing the Deluminator. It pulsed and radiated, always repeating his name softly like an echo.  
  
" _Severus_."  
  
The pulsing ball of light floated upward from the Deluminator and floated away. Severus got out of bed and followed it gingerly to where it had paused in the middle of the room. Standing still, the light began to move again, dancing around him. He followed its every move, turning in place and jerking his head around, eyes dancing, watching and waiting for the light to do something. It seemed to almost be contemplating him, making a decision, as if the light were sentient.  
  
It was dimmer than a Patronus, and with no tangible shape. The blue light reflected off of his face, all planes and angles, illuminating the pleading expression on his face. The light took a final turn around Severus, meeting his eye again, then dancing up and down, and suddenly floated into his chest, bathing it in the blue light.  
  
He could feel it inside him, the light. It was warm and comforting and hopeful. He felt a tingle in his fingertips and his toes, and his head felt as if he were standing in summer sunlight. He shut his eyes and felt the light consume him, flow through his veins, sparking heat and light and hope in every cell and fibre of his being. He could feel it jump along his synapses, and with each heartbeat, he knew that his body pulsed a faint blue hue.  
  
The pulsing of the light quickened within him, and with it his breath and heart rate also increased. Faster and faster, brighter and brighter, the light pulsed inside him with each heartbeat, until finally it exploded in a shower of blue sparks radiating out from him, and his eyes opened wide and he _knew._  
  
He knew that she loved him, knew how much she loved him, and knew exactly what she wanted from him. He knew that she was sorry for hurting him and that she wanted nothing more than to forgive and forget and come home. He knew that she felt ashamed of her reaction, ashamed of her past, and wanted nothing but his full acceptance of her and her past. He felt her fear that he would turn her out, and her fear that he would never let her back, and her strong desire for him to come to her and tell her differently. He knew that her home was with him, with them, and that she wanted him to bring her home. He knew it all as clearly and absolutely as if it were something tangible standing before him. It was in him now—in his mind, in his heart, in his soul, everywhere. Hermione Granger loved him.  
  
He waited for the voice's rebuke. It did not come.  
  
In fact, the voice did not seem to be there anymore at all. There was a clarity in his mind that had not existed before. It was as if a tumor had been surgically removed and all that remained was healthy tissue. He probed around in his mind for it, taking careful inventory, lowering the Occlumency shields that had always failed to keep the voice away for long, and found… nothing.  
  
The voice—the self-doubt, self-loathing, self-destructive force that had been as constant to him as his breath and heartbeat—was no longer tormenting him. The voice that had driven him to make every terrible decision in his wretched life was missing. The voice that had told him to call Lily a Mudblood for smirking at his torture at the hands of the Marauders, the one that had told him that she was a dirty traitor and caused him to utter the awful words that drove her away forever, that had told him the Death Eaters would give him everything he wanted and needed, the voice that had told him Harry Potter was going to be James all over again, the one that had told him that it was better to be feared than loved and that he would never, ever be able to save his graduates from that horrible place was finally, mercifully, painlessly, gloriously gone.  
  
Hermione loved him and he loved her. The darkness and doubt in his heart was washed away. The light of the deluminator, and of Hermione's soft plea for his return, had banished it.  
  
When things seemed most dark, it had shown him the light.  
  
Grasping onto the knowledge, he grasped his wand and quickly conjured the brightest silver doe that he had ever managed. Seeing it gave him hope; his Patronus was still the same. Further proof that she still loved him as much as he loved her.  
  
Though the light had extinguished itself, he still felt something inside him glow.  
  
With a flick of his wand the doe pranced off to Luna's room to inform her upon waking that Severus would be out for a bit and to floo Harry if she needed assistance. He took a moment to disillusion himself, just in case Hermione was in a Muggle area. Given her heritage, it was very likely she would have done so. Grateful that he had not changed out of his clothing before crawling into bed, he shut his eyes and concentrated on the warm glow he still felt in his heart.  
  
"I'm coming, Hermione," he whispered, tightening his grip on the now-empty Deluminator. With a deep breath and a loud crack, he Disapparated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Ron has given Severus the Deluminator in another story, I haven't seen it. However, it feels like I should have, so I apologize if I've completely ripped someone off. It was unintentional.
> 
> I like to think the light and love in the Deluminator exorcising one's self-doubt also explains Ron's change in heart and demeanor after he returns to the tent in DH. He was a different man when he came back, and I don't think it's entirely because he had some time to think (or that his big brother likely knocked a lot of sense into him).
> 
> "Point me" is the locator spell in Harry Potter; it turns one's wand into a compass.
> 
> Coming up: Where Hermione went, and why.


	25. Fly Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, "dark magic" really could be born from light.

Apparition gives one the unique sensation of being forced through a tight, narrow tube so constricting that the lungs are compressed and the witch or wizard attempting such an action often feels suffocated. Fortunately for said witch or wizard, Apparition is nearly instantaneous, and thus the feeling only occurs for a fraction of a second. After a moment of discomfort, the Apparating witch or wizard may carry on as normal.

When Severus arrived at his destination, however, he collapsed to his hands and knees, coughing and heaving and gasping for air. He collapsed on his back and stared up at the sky as he struggled to calm himself by taking deep heaving breaths.

Oxygen had never tasted so sweet.

It had been the longest Apparition of his life, taking several long minutes to complete. He was more accustomed than most to Apparating without a specific destination in mind; every time he touched his wand to his Dark Mark, he was transported to an unknown location. It had been such a constant and frequent occurrence in his life that occasionally, when not Apparating in response to the Dark Lord's summons, he had failed to Apparate because of the elementary error of failing to concentrate on his intended destination. Other times, he would be thinking of other things and Apparate to the wrong location.

This Apparition had different from all the others.

Where London had been dark and foggy and bathed in moonlight, he was now lying in bright sunlight and staring at a cloudless blue sky. The weather was warm, too warm for the late winter of England, and him without even a cloak on. Looking around, he realised that he was nowhere near London or England or even Europe, given the time of day and the weather. He had, despite all known limitations of the power of Apparition, apparently Apparated across the globe in one go.

Leave it to Albus Dumbledore to invent a device powered by love.

Dumbledore had often waxed poetic about how love was the most powerful magic known in either the Wizarding or Muggle worlds. Between the dancing ball of light and the otherwise-impossible Apparition across continents and oceans, Severus thought that maybe the old man hadn't been such a sentimental fool after all. Perhaps, in this area at least, there was truth behind his words. After all, Dumbledore had created the Deluminator with his own two hands, carried it with him for years, and bequeathed it to Ronald Weasley, who had given it to Severus. A curious and unexpected chain of custody, to be sure.

As Severus fought to catch his breath and control his breathing, thought about what would have motivated Dumbledore to create such an object. He wondered whose voice Dumbledore had yearned to hear echoing out of the cylinder in a burst of light, and hoped that Dumbledore too had awakened to the sound of his beloved calling his name. Severus had never asked the old man about his love life. He wished now that he had. Their conversations had always been about the Dark Lord, or the war, or the Order, or Hogwarts, or the Potters, or Severus himself. Never about Albus Dumbledore. Never.

Shaking his head (why on earth was he thinking about Albus Dumbledore at the moment, anyway?), he jerked his head around in a frantic search. The light had sent him here; now all he had to do was see whether he had found the right spot. He thought it was right. It felt right.

He ran his fingers along the ground. Sand. He was on a beach. He tilted his head to the side and watched the waves crash into the shore. He heard the cry of a seagull far away. At least, he thought it was a seagull. It sounded a little different from the kind he was used to hearing.

He sat up, sand clinging to his Disillusioned body. A swish of his wand banished the sand that lay atop his clothing as well as the sand that had already wedged itself into his crevices. How did sand always manage to do that?

He climbed to his feet on shaky legs, looking about. The beach was in a crescent-moon shape, surrounded by buildings and cliffs and a road. The water was a deep blue, so blue. There were a few people walking about in black full-body suits, carrying long boards. Surfers. The wind whipped Severus's short black hair about his face. She must be close; he had known it as surely as he had known anything else in his life. He, a man that spent his life dressed in black but saw everything in shades of grey, considered this significant.

He scanned the benches and cliffs for her, his eyes finally settling on a figure sitting atop one of the cliffs, bushy brown hair whipping in the wind, knees drawn to her chest. It was her. Severus let out the breath he didn't realise he was holding when he saw she was safe. Melancholy, but safe.

Severus really didn't fancy climbing up there, but having just completed what should have been an impossible Apparition, he did not think it advisable to do another so soon; he did not think he could do so without splinching himself. Fortunately, it would not be a straight climb up the cliffs. Conveniently, there was a path leading from the beach up to the top of the cliffs where she was perched, which is how he suspected Hermione had got up there. Though he was exhausted and sleep-deprived and still out of breath, he tucked the Deluminator in his pocket and made his way toward her as quickly as he could.

Halfway there he cast a silent Finite on himself to end the Disillusionment; it wouldn't do to frighten her by appearing out of thin air, even though as a witch she was used to it. No, he would be visible in his approach, give her the option of turning away and leaving without speaking to him, if that was what she wanted. He thought not, but he felt he owed her that option.

He slowed his steps as he approached her. Having come this far, he didn't know what he wanted to say to her.

What could he say to her?

\--------

For the second time in her life, Hermione Granger had made an impulsive and reckless decision without thought to the consequences, and again it was because of Severus.

Curious how it took a Slytherin to make her act like such a Gryffindor.

She had come here without thinking, blindly believing that things would be all right once she did. As the recipient of the Order of Merlin, First Class, she—like Severus, who also had one—had the freedom to create her own Portkeys. It had not taken long for her to realise the folly of her decision.

She had just abandoned her family. Walked out on the children she had come to think of as her own. Run out on them, without a word.

She sighed. She wanted to go home.

Could she? Was it even her home anymore?

The words that Severus had screamed at her in the Shrieking Shack twelve years earlier felt quite fitting at the moment.

Stupid girl.

His words the other day had cut her deeply, to be sure. She wasn't proud of the night with Harry—from the circumstances of it to the act of it to the aftermath of it, she was not proud of the way they had handled themselves. She had taken comfort in the fact that it was only once, and that they had been driven to it by difficult circumstances. She had taken special comfort in the fact that it had been kept completely secret—never mentioned in any books or other accounts of their time in the war, never mentioned in the gossip columns or tabloids. Ginny and Ron had proven reliable confidantes. She hadn't thought it would ever come up on another relationship, but of course, with Severus Snape, secrets had to come to light. She hadn't been proud of the fact that she'd now slept with all but one of her male friends, as if she'd been passed around like some parcel at a party. It wasn't the case at all, but still... it sounded bad to her. It felt like everyone knew now. That wasn't the kind of person she was. And she had been made to feel that way.

The argument had transported her back to the single worst moment of her life: the moment Ron walked away from them in that tent. All of a sudden she was eighteen again, a scared teenager in a tent, with the man she loved insulting her and making insinuations about her, then leaving without giving her time to explain. Without a care.

It was happening again. She was being abandoned again.

If she were completely honest with herself, it hadn't been Ron's words that had irreparably harmed their chances at happiness together. It was the fact that he'd left her to die.

Severus did not do that. Severus would never have done that.

His words had cut deep. But that was no excuse for her to leave him, or leave them. No excuse to pack her things and disappear into thin air.

Severus protected his children (and yes, they were his children) as well as any parent would. He made it clear from the very beginning that they came before anyone else, including her, and that betrayal would not be tolerated. He had been hesitant to expose the children to both her and Harry for fear that, when things got hard, they would leave them, just as everyone else in their lives had.

Things had got hard.

She had left.

What was worse, worst of all, she had hit him. An abused child himself and she had slapped him across the face.

What kind of monster did that? What kind of monster followed that up by walking out on her family? Over something so stupid?

She had never been so ashamed of herself.

Severus would never, ever forgive her for that. And deservedly so.

Severus valued loyalty more than anything else. When he committed to someone, or something, he did so completely and eternally, and expected it in return. And while they hadn't made any formal commitments to each other, she had given him her commitment to care for the children. She walked away without warning or without giving him any information as to her whereabouts or when she would be back. She knew how he would interpret that—he would see it as abandonment of them and of him.

She had no intention of leaving them, regardless of the status of her relationship with him. But would he see it that way? Would he even believe her?

She was not a violent person and never had been, but she had raised her hand to him in anger, and that had made him leave. He trusted her and she hurt him just like his abusive father had. That was the greatest betrayal of all.

When she saw him, what on earth would she say to him?

Hermione hugged her knees to her chest. On the cliffs overlooking the sea, with the wind sweeping her hair every which way, making it as bushy as it had ever been, she whispered his name into the wind in apology.

"Severus." The word came out quietly, lost in the breeze and the sound of the sea. "Severus… forgive me."

Her voice carried softly across land and sea and space ten thousand miles away, where a man heard it and sat bolt upright in bed and defied the laws of both physics and magic to come to her. Mere minutes later, unbeknownst to her, he stood ten feet away, willing himself to take those last few steps to her side.

\---------

Meanwhile, thousands of miles away, two figures stayed up plotting late into the night in the Gryffindor common room. They spoke in whispers to avoid detection.

"What's a thestral?" Leopold asked Clara.

Clara pointed to an illustration of what looked like a black winged horse with a skeletal body and hollow eyes. "Thestrals. Professor Hagrid keeps them out in the Forbidden Forest. He usually shows them to fifth years, but they're out there, if you can find them."

"Doesn't he keep them in the same place?"

Clara shook her head. "He does, but… well… they're invisible to most people."

"They are?"

Clara nodded. "They pull the carriages for the older students, the ones that everyone swears pull themselves. We didn't see them because we came over on the boats. But I doubt we'd be able to see the thestrals anyway."

"Who can see them?"

"It says, 'Only those who have witnessed and been impacted by death may see the thestral.' So that might make it impossible for us to find them."

Leopold shook his head. "I'll be able to." He grasped Clara by the hand; her tiny fingers interlaced themselves with his. "If we go now we can get a head start before anyone knows we've gone. Come on."

\--------

He told himself to stop being stupid. She had called for him. She wanted him here. And if she didn't, if he had interpreted the Deluminator incorrectly... well, at least he will have tried. He never really tried with Lily. He would not make the same mistake twice. And he was damn certain he hadn't misinterpreted this. He wouldn't second-guess his intuition. Not anymore. That part of him was gone now.

It wasn't just that the voice had disappeared; that had happened before, and it had always come back. He knew that would not happen this time; he could feel it missing from his head, and it felt glorious. No, it was not just the voice he was missing. It was the feelings associated with it: fear, self-loathing, self-doubt, self-hatred, the feelings that had driven him from light to dark, from Lily to the Death Eaters, from Hermione to an empty bed and an empty heart. That part of him-the part that sabotaged everything good he'd ever had-was now gone.

Severus crossed the distance between them, making sure his footsteps were audible. She turned around, and her red-rimmed eyes widened in shock. Per usual, her expression broadcasted the emotions she felt: shock, relief, fear, regret, happiness, insecurity, love. Always love. Her mouth fell open, only slightly, as she took him in.

He set himself down next to her, keeping about a foot between them, and wrapped his arms around his knees. Hermione could not tear her eyes away from him, and he would not look away from her either. His expression, per usual, betrayed nothing about him, which Hermione took as a hopeful sign. If he was angry with her, she would know. And if he no longer wanted her in his life, he would not have come to find her.

How, actually, had he found her?

Hermione's shaky voice broke the silence between them as his gaze lingered on her. She collected herself and, in the steadiest voice she could muster, said the only thing that came to mind.

"Hi."

Severus inclined his head. "Hello, Hermione."

There were so many questions she wanted to ask: How did he find her? How did he get here? Why was he here if he just wanted her out of his life? Would he ever forgive her?

And statements she wanted to make: She was sorry. She wanted to come home. She wanted to come home to him. She wanted to come home to them. She would never forgive herself for hitting him.

Too many questions. Too much to say. Nowhere to begin.

She half-wished he would just use Legilimency on her and save her the ordeal of having to form the words herself.

"I know that I can read your mind, Hermione, but I'd rather not," Severus said in a voice that was neither cross nor agitated.

So much for that.

"Are you here to terminate my position at Grimmauld Place?" she whispered.

"No," he said softly. "I'm here to bring you home."

Her throat constricted as a myriad of emotions crossed her mind all at once.

"I'm so, so sorry Severus." She buried her head on her raised knees and began to weep, her tired body shaking.

"My Hermione," Severus murmured, raising his hand to place it on her shoulder but changing his mind before he did. "Sweetheart, it is I who should be begging your forgiveness."

She shook her head without lifting it, heartened by his use of an endearment. "No," she said in a muffled voice. "I walked out on you and the children without a word, which is what you always told me you would not tolerate. And I know about your father and what he—I struck you! I slapped you on the face!" She took a shuddering breath and lifted her head to face him. When she spoke again, her voice was small. "How can you say you want to bring me home? How can you even stand to be near me?"

Severus considered Hermione's words. It was true, when this project began in the bowels of the Ministry-run orphanage just over a year earlier, he had not trusted her or Harry any further than he could throw them with his bare hands. Even after the relocation to Grimmauld Place, he had been irate when he saw her read to them because he feared that they would grow attached to Hermione, only to have her, too, leave them. They had been distressed when she left. They seemed calmed by his assurances that she was only going to be away for a short while, but they would not be themselves again until she came home. The lack of warning had been hard on them.

A year ago, Severus would have written her off as a loss and carried on with his life. He would have told the children to forget about her, to move on with their lives, to consider it a great life lesson: people leave. Nothing lasts.

Yet Severus was not the same man he was a year earlier, was he? He was no longer a loner doing a thankless job for a group of unmentionables. He was no longer working and drinking himself to death and living on one frayed nerve. He was no longer stretched so thin that he failed all of his obligations in his attempts to meet them all.

Severus was part of a community now. An unfortunately Gryffindor-heavy community, but a community nonetheless. Luna was still there; she was minding the children right now as they slept. Longbottom was keeping an eye on Leopold at Hogwarts, and Harry had thrown himself into this task with both hands. They weren't going anywhere.

Hermione had left. And yet it didn't feel as unforgivable a sin as it might have been back then. In fact, it hadn't even crossed his mind that he wouldn't want her to come back. He had been too consumed with his own guilt and his own fears for her safety to think that he might not want her to return.

If he were being completely honest with himself, he knew that she hadn't really left. She'd been driven away.

Really, it was simple. He did want her. He wanted her at Grimmauld Place, with him and the children and Luna and Harry and (God help him) Longbottom, where she belonged. Not for what she did for them in terms of lessons or attracting Ministry support for things, but for who she was: a companion, a partner, a lover, a friend. He wanted Hermione back home with him. There was no question in his mind about that. As for the children…

"It would be more traumatic for them if you never came back, than if you returned after an unexpected holiday," he said out loud.

She gave a sniff and nodded. "But still bad for them," she mused.

"We do not live in a bubble, Hermione," Severus said, to her as much as to himself. "They do not live in a bubble. I cannot shield them forever. A short-term upset will prepare them for the inevitable larger ones in life, will it not?"

She nodded again. "You're right. I just… I never wanted to be the lesson, you know?"

The question hung in the air as both turned their gaze to the water, watching surfers ride the waves like little black dots.

"You're not," he said softly. "I am the lesson." He turned to her, his smile sad. "I am so sorry, Hermione," Severus said, breaking the silence. "What I accused you of, what I asked of you, what I said… it was unconscionable. You deserve better than that, so much better than that."

She opened her mouth to protest but he held up a hand to stop her. "I mean it, Hermione. You had every right to say and do what you said and did. Including striking me across the face."

"Nobody deserves that," Hermione interrupted. Her voice was deathly serious. "No one. Especially you."

"I did deserve it, Hermione. I… it reminded me very much of what happened with Lily, and I responded as if I were a betrayed little boy again. The situations are not comparable. Lily was with Potter despite her knowing how he tormented me, and ran back into his arms not six months after our relationship ended for good. You and Harry, on the other hand, " he looked sheepish, "were none of my business. Hermione, I'm so sorry."

Hermione turned to look at him, clearly surprised at his admission.

"I spoke with Harry and he showed me what happened... between you."

Hermione flushed and turned her head away, but this time Severus, without thinking, reached out a hand to still her, to turn her face back to him.

"It was wrong of me to go to him, Hermione, but I'm glad I did. I saw—I understand now. I understand the need for comfort in the midst of a terrible ordeal. I never… I'm glad you and Harry could be there for each other. Especially after the person you loved threw such ugly allegations in your face and walked out on you."

He swallowed. "I am not ignorant of the parallels between myself and Weasley. I know that you and he never worked past what he did to you. I very much hope that you and I can. If you could find it in your heart to forgive me, I will spend the rest of my life making you glad that you did."

"Severus…" Hermione reached up to her face to cover the hand that was still cupping her chin and laced her fingers through his. "Ron and I could never make it work because he abandoned me and Harry to die. The words I would have got over eventually, and have—we're still great friends, though things never did quite get back to the way they were. We might have been able to be happy together otherwise, but I could never get over the image of him walking out of that tent and Apparating away, knowing that I'd likely never see him again.

"You… your words hurt, Severus, I won't lie. I don't want my past thrown in my face like that ever again."

"Never," Severus said seriously, meeting her eyes and giving her a sincere look. "I am the last person in the world who can cast aspersions on anyone else's past, as you know better than probably anyone. You have never made me feel ashamed or guilty over any of the shameful things I have done, of who I am and who I used to be. I swear to you, right now," he said, taking her hand and placing it over his heart in an ancient gesture of fealty, "that I will never mention it again, or use it against you, or make you feel bad about it. As far as I am concerned, it's in the past, and what's in the past is of no consequence to either of us anymore. I love you, Hermione. I don't want to live without you."

She gave him a sad smile. "I love you too," she whispered. "I'm sorry, too, Severus. I overreacted by leaving. Like you, I incorrectly drew a connection between the past and the present, and it was wrong of me to do so. For a moment, I was back in that tent with the person I loved hurling accusations in my face then walking out on me, leaving me behind. But I was wrong. You didn't abandon me or hurl accusations. You were understandably upset about something I hid from you, and you justifiably walked out to cool your head after I struck you. It was wrong of me to then turn tail and leave."

He squeezed her hand. "Neither of us acted very admirably in this situation, did we?"

Hermione gave a watery chuckle and shook her head. "No. I suppose neither of us is terribly experienced at this."

"I'm a novice at this," Severus said.

"Me too."

"And I dislike being a novice in anything," he said.

"So do I."

"I should very much like to rectify it in this case."

For the first time, her expression was hopeful. "Me too."

"You packed up all your things…" he said softly. He knew from the light that she still loved him and wanted to be with him, but needed to hear it from her own mouth.

She looked away from him, ashamed. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I was angry, and upset, and in a fury I picked up my wand, threw everything into my bag—" she indicated her small, beaded handbag that she had carried throughout the war—"and came out here without another thought." She chanced a look at him. "I realise now how that must have looked."

"So you don't want to move out?"

She shook her head. "I thought you might not want me anymore," she said softly. "At least, that was my thought process at the time. I didn't want to wait around for you to throw me out."

"Hermione," he whispered. "Remember what I said to you? I am yours for as long as you will have me. I am committed to you. I am a constant man. I would not throw you out."

"Your words weren't exactly encouraging," she said.

He swallowed, averting his gaze. "No, they weren't."

"Never again?" she asked hopefully.

He nodded. "Never again."

They finally looked at one another again, each confident in the truth of the other's words.

Severus allowed himself a smile, and for a moment considered sitting back and waiting for her to make the first move. Then he disavowed that idea. That was the old him. His life—his new life—began today.

"Can I kiss you?" he asked softly.

She rewarded him with a small laugh. "Of course, love."

He closed the distance between them and pulled her into a gentle yet passionate kiss, putting into it everything he could not form into words. She responded with all the enthusiasm the light in his heart had promised.

"How did you find me?" Hermione asked breathlessly after many minutes of contrite kissing.

With a sheepish yet knowing look, Severus withdrew the small silver implement from his pocket. "I trust you know what this is?"

Dumbfounded, Hermione took the Deluminator into her hands. "Where did you… how did you…?" The question died on her lips.

"Your friendships are stronger than I think you even realised," Severus said in a deliberately Slytherin answer.

"Ron," Hermione whispered. "He found us with this."

"It is a very useful, if unorthodox, instrument."

"Very," Hermione said, still staring at the object.

"I hope to never have need of it again."

"But how did you get here?" Hermione asked, failing to hear his last statement while she was so lost in thought. "When Ron used it, it gave him a destination to Apparate to. But there's no way you could have done all the way out here."

"Never underestimate the power of instruments designed by Albus Dumbledore."

She looked at him in disbelief. "That's impossible. Apparition isn't possible for that distance."

"Incidentally, where exactly are we, Hermione?"

"You—you really did Apparate here without knowing where you were going, like Ron did?"

Severus nodded.

"We're on Bondi Beach," Hermione said. "In Sydney, Australia." She turned her body fully to him and pressed the Deluminator in his hands. "Severus, you Apparated all the way from London to Sydney without splinching yourself?"

He nodded as if it were the most normal thing in the world.

"But, not even Muggle aeroplanes can travel that distance in one go!"

He shrugged. "I am no aeroplane, am I?"

"No, no you're not." She continued to stare at him, mouth agape. "It must have been… my God I can't even imagine what it would be like to Apparate like that."

"It was not the most pleasant experience of my life, but I have endured much harsher treatments for far less satisfying rewards."

"I suppose I underestimated the power of magic."

"Dumbledore would have called it the power of love," Severus said wryly, failing to completely mask the fact that he considered it a true statement.

Hermione laughed and placed a kiss on his nose. "Some might call it both."

"Indeed." He pulled Hermione into his arms and inhaled the scent of her hair. Still orange blossoms. Still her. "Come home?" he asked.

She nodded. "Yes, please."

He got to his feet and offered her a hand up, which she accepted.

"How did you get here?" Severus asked once they were on their feet.

"I made a Portkey," Hermione said.

Like any good Slytherin, he asked the next question only because he already knew the answer. "And you came here because…"

"I wanted to see my parents," she whispered after a pause.

"Did you?"

She shook her head. "I couldn't find them. I know they were here when they first arrived, and where they lived when they did, but I couldn't find their current address. They sold their dental practise and I could find no record of what they did after that. I've been looking but... well, I don't have much hope of finding them." She sighed. "Stupid plan, really. I know I can't undo the memory charms, I'm not entirely confident you can, despite what you say, and even if I could, I know what the reaction would be. I just… I wanted to see them. Once. So that I would know that they are safe."

Severus nodded. He had spent much of his life watching those he could not speak to from afar, making sure they were safe. He knew that it brought some comfort, however small.

"We could still search for them," Severus offered. "There are census records, property records, tax records…"

Hermione shook her head. "I've already attempted to do that, and they're nowhere to be found. I've spent the last three days combing all the records I could find, every neighbourhood I could envision them living in, and nothing. For all I know they've left Sydney, or even left Australia altogether. They could be anywhere." She gave him a weak smile. "They aren't my parents anymore; they're other people, strangers. And even though they were my parents… we weren't much of a family. I will always love them, and always care about them, and always regret that I lost them. But I have my family now."

At Severus's surprised look, she squeezed his hand. "You. You and the children are my family now. As are Harry and Ginny and Luna and Neville and Ron. That is… if you still want me."

"Always, Hermione," Severus said breathlessly as he pulled her into a searing kiss. "Always."

They had broken away from the kiss and were staring out at the sea when Severus spoke again.

His newfound confidence in himself and in her was liberating. This seemed like as good a time as any. He had wasted so much time being afraid. Why wait?

"Marry me."

Hermione's breath caught in her throat. "What?"

"I want you to marry me," he said. He looked down at her with the most confident look she'd ever seen on his face.

He knew that he loved her. Why continue to deny himself the things he'd always wanted, the things he now knew he could have?

"I… you do?"

"I do," he said. "Hermione, I know I messed this up. I wasn't lying when I told you that if you give me the chance, I will spend the rest of my life making you glad that you did. I promise. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want you as my partner. I want you as my wife. Please."

Caught completely off guard, Hermione searched for words. This was not how she expected to receive a marriage proposal, to be sure. She never expected to receive one at all, especially from Severus. Not even after he professed his love, not even after moving in with each other, not even after they began raising fifteen children together. She had never even entertained the possibility.

Then again, the man had just Apparated ten thousand miles without splinching himself to be by her side and bring her home. How could she doubt him or his intentions?

Unable to express herself in words, she merely nodded and pulled his head down to brush her lips against his. When they separated, Severus smiled at her and said, "Thank you."

Hermione rested her head on her fiancé's shoulder. She was engaged to marry him now. It was completely unromantic, devastatingly practical, very impromptu, and terribly understated.

It was Severus. It was perfect.

"We should get back," Severus said. "It's been less than an hour, and Luna knows that I left, but I think it would be best not to delay any longer than we have to."

Hermione nodded. "I guess we can't go back the same way you came?"

Severus chuckled. "I hope not. Once was more than enough."

"Should we see about getting an official Portkey back to London?" she asked. They didn't have the same freedom to make Portkeys in Australia that they did in Britain.

"We could," he said. "Unless you're feeling a bit… adventurous?"

She gave him a smile and waggled her eyebrows suggestively. "I am a Gryffindor."

He smiled back. "That you are. My Gryffindor." He maneuvered himself behind her and wrapped his arms her firmly around the waist. "Hold on to me," he whispered, "And trust me that I won't let you go, no matter what."

"Alright," she said uncertainly. Next thing she knew, Severus launched off the cliff. Her screams died down as he pulled up and flew them over the sea. The beach and the surfers disappeared as they rose to the sky. They soared higher and higher, dodging the skyscrapers of downtown Sydney and rising into the clouds.

"Sev—wha—I can'—" Hermione sputtered. "How did you learn to do this?"

"Not important," he replied. "What is important is that we can travel very quickly, and very safely, this way. If we get bored, we'll Apparate or get a Portkey somewhere along the way."

Hermione nodded and looked at the ground pass beneath them. She had always been afraid of flying, but now, in her love's arms, the wind whipping through her hair, she felt… alive. She knew he would not drop her, and if she fell, he would dive down and catch her. It was a wonderful feeling.

"How long can you fly like this?"

"As long as I need to."

"You don't get tired?"

He shook his head. "There's nothing more invigorating."

Hermione laughed and cautiously spread her arms, feeling like she was flying under her own power.

"Can you make it all the way back to London?"

He nodded. "I think I can."

"How long will it take?"

"I don't know. I've never tried before." He smiled. "But I'm willing to find out, if you are."

"I'm in this with you, Severus," Hermione said, talking about more than just a flight home.

\---------

Clara frantically pounded on the professor's door. Her own Head of House wasn't answering the door, and this was the only other Gryffindor professor she could think of calling on at this hour. She wasn't entirely confident that he would be here; she wasn't in his class, and since he wasn't a Head of House, he wasn't required to stay in the castle overnight while classes were in session, but she had to try.

She really, really wished she hadn't helped Leopold with his plan. She regretted showing him the books, regretted listening to him, regretted all of it. She should have just told him to wait for the Easter Holidays. They were only a month away; what could possibly be so important that he had to leave now, before dawn, to get to London? If it was an emergency, he could have told the Headmistress, or Head of House, or another teacher, someone in authority. They could have contacted his relatives.

"I don't have any," Leopold had said in a strangled voice. "No one. That's why I have to go, we have no one. My sister, she doesn't have anyone to take care of her anymore. I have to rescue her."

"Your sister?" Clara was puzzled. Leopold had never mentioned any siblings before.

His eyes were on his feet, defeated. He clearly hadn't meant to let it slip out.

"Leo, what happened to your sister?" Clara asked, taking his hand in hers. Leopold shook his head. "Leo, you can tell me anything, you know."

He shook his head. "No, not everything."

She took his other hand in hers. "Leo, I know you've been hiding something about yourself since I met you. I can tell. You can trust me. We're best friends… aren't we?"

"We are."

"Then tell me what's wrong. Don't just jump on a thestral and run away. What if something happens to you?"

"Because if I do tell you, Clara, I might as well jump on a thestral and run away. At least this way I can help someone and keep my secret."

"I promise I won't tell anyone," she swore to him. She meant it.

"I'm not afraid of you telling anyone, I'm afraid of what you'll think of me once you know what it is and I don't want to lose you as a friend. You're the best friend I've ever had."

"I won't stop being your friend, Leo, no matter what it is."

He shook his head again. "I'm so sorry, Clara. I can't." He pulled her into a hug and kissed her cheek. "I'm so sorry," he whispered against her skin. "I can't."

Trying not to think of the feel of his lips on her cheek before he took flight on the invisible creature, seemingly floating off into the night under his own power until she could no longer see him silhouetted against the dark sky, she continued to rap on the door.

Running off into the unknown in the middle of the night? On the back of an invisible creature? Without telling anyone? On some misguided attempt to rescue someone? No wonder Slytherin always picked on Gryffindor for being full of reckless idiots.

"Professor?" she cried out as loud as she dared. No need for Mrs. Norris to discover her here; that would only add to her troubles. "Professor, please!"

A desheveled, sleepy, and unshaven Professor Longbottom answered the door. "What is it? What's the matter?"

"Professor!" Clara squealed out of both relief and fear, "You've got to come quick, I've done something terrible and now it's too late to stop it!" At her professor's alarmed expression, she calmed down and began to relate her tale.

When she finished, Professor Longbottom nodded. "Come on, then," he said in a shaky voice that he was trying to steady. "We've got to see the Headmistress."

\--------

Severus brought them to land gently upon the white cliffs of Dover at first light of day. The flight had taken only a few short hours to complete, far faster than if they had gone by aeroplane, and not that much longer than it would have taken with an official Portkey. Neither of them noticed the passage of time, instead fixated on watching the world open up and spread itself out before them: jungles evolving into savannahs morphing into deserts changing into mountains leveling off into cities and towns.

The same thought played through Severus's mind, over and over, the entire way.

She's going to marry me. She's going to marry me.

He wanted to show her the world, experience the world's beauty with her after so many years of experiencing its ugliness. He wanted to feel invigorated and alive with her in his arms. He wanted to show her things that no one else could.

He couldn't help but feel a bit smug at his success on all counts.

Severus's dirty little secret was that broomless flying, much like the flight in the Muggle play Peter Pan (written by J.M. Barrie, a Muggle-born wizard), was powered by happy thoughts. Much like a Patronus. The Dark Lord had flown on the power of his ambitions and plans for the wizarding world. Such thoughts had given him something akin to elation. Severus, on the other hand, flew on the power of his feelings for Lily for many years. Now, he flew on the power of his feelings for Hermione. He had flown higher and faster than ever before.

Sometimes, "dark magic" really could be born from light.

Wobbling on unsteady feet that had not touched earth for three continents, they stood wrapped in each other's arms.

"Thank you," Hermione whispered.

"For what?"

She sighed and rubbed her cheek against his chest. "Everything." She squeezed him tighter, trying to convey her feelings through touch rather than words. It seemed to work, for Severus squeezed back, planted a kiss on her forehead, and, when their eyes met, nodded in understanding.

He shook his head. "Thank you, Hermione. Always you. I promise, I swear to you, that I will give you the benefit of the doubt from now on. You should have had it from the beginning."

She squeezed him in response.

"In my vault at Gringotts," he murmured, "I have my mother's ring. It is not much, but it would mean a great deal to me if you would wear it."

She nodded, understanding just how important it really was to him.

"Shall we?" he asked. She nodded, and he Apparated them back to Grimmauld Place. Back home with the others, where they both belonged.

They Apparated onto the top step. It was early enough that his disappearance should have gone unnoticed, and that Hermione's reappearance would be welcomed.

Severus felt good, really good, for the first time in a long time. Perhaps the first time ever. With the voice and all it represented gone from his mind in a burst of blue light, he could really focus on the future. He would find a way to get the girls out of that place. Hermione was right; there was a way, they just hadn't found it yet. He would actively campaign for counseling and trauma services at Hogwarts, like he'd been saying he would from the beginning. He could positively feel the possibilities. It wasn't exactly optimism; he would never admit to that. It was something else, something simpler and more universal. It was hope.

But when they opened the door and saw Neville, Luna, Harry, and Minerva McGonagall standing in the ground floor sitting room, they immediately knew something was wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope Hermione's parents weren't too much of a letdown. This (lack of) resolution was planned from the beginning. If you hide people, erase their memories, give them new memories and identities, leave them to their own devices in a foreign country, and then wait seven years, you'd probably lose track of them. Indecision is the same as a decision, and has consequences all the same. It's a regret she'll now have to live with. But as she said, Severus and the kids are her family now. She can begin to let go.
> 
> Yes, Severus flew from Sydney to Dover in a couple of hours. It's magic, okay?
> 
> Chapter 23 of Deathly Hallows ("Malfoy Manor") implies that Apparition has a limited range: "Harry knew it; his scar was bursting with the pain of it, and he could feel Voldemort flying through the sky from far away, over a dark and stormy sea, and soon he would be close enough to Apparate to them, and Harry could see no way out."
> 
> About three months before I began writing this story, I had the privilege of visiting Sydney and spent a day on Bondi Beach. If you dropped out of the sky like Severus, without knowing where you were and if you'd never been there before, it wouldn't be the obvious guess; I think it could easily pass for parts of the Mediterranean or California. Full of surfers, surrounded by cliffs, and yes, the seagulls really do sound different. Aussie readers: I absolutely loved your country. Hope to go back again someday.
> 
> Sydney is 10-11 hours ahead of GMT, depending on the time of year. So middle of the night in the UK would be around midday of the following day in Sydney.
> 
> The chapter title is taken from the following passage in Alexander Pope's poem "Eloisa to Abelard," which is about separation and longing to forget the pain of a lost love:
> 
> No, fly me, fly me, far as pole from pole;  
> Rise Alps between us! And whole oceans roll!  
> Ah, come not, write not, think not once of me,  
> Nor share one pang of all I felt for thee.
> 
> Coming up: Will Leo succeed? Will he get help? And what of the girls?


	26. Night is Getting Dimmer...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I felt like destroying something beautiful."

A glass tumbler smashed into the wall above the hearth and shattered into a thousand sparkling pieces that glittered as they fell to the floor. Kreacher appeared at once, sweeping it away, muttering about the savageness of the man who had thrown it.  
  
Severus slumped into a chair and placed his head in his hands. Leopold Clairemont had left Hogwarts before the end of his first year. He had been so sure that this boy, between his placement in Gryffindor and his changed surname and the fact that he actually had friends, would have meant he would last longer than most. Severus had even dared to think that he would be the first of his charges to actually finish at Hogwarts, to actually have a chance at a real future.  
  
He'd left without warning or explanation. Escaped on a thestral, Minerva said. The boy must really be a Gryffindor if he had made such a theatrical escape on their steed of choice.  
  
Where had he gone wrong? He had done everything right with this one.  
  
"Severus?" he heard a voice say in a weary Scottish brogue. He looked up, so lost in his thoughts and regrets that he had quite forgotten that everyone was still around him, watching him, having just shared the news.  
  
He stood up and rounded on Minerva.  
  
"What the hell kind of institution do you think you're running if young children can just disappear in the middle of the night and leave the grounds without anyone knowing?"  
  
"Now, Severus—"  
  
"I won't insult us both by pretending that my year as Headmaster was any sort of model experience, but no student ever successfully ran away by themselves, even though they had real reasons to do so, and they all failed because _I_ took steps to ensure that they would fail for their own protection! I made sure it was impossible for them to leave! They could not run away because to do so would have been suicide!"  
  
"See here—"  
  
"And haven't you learned enough from their foolish escapade," he spat, gesturing at Harry, Hermione, Neville, and Luna, "to know that the thestral herd is to be kept far from the castle grounds and inaccessible to students when not being used in a lesson?"  
  
Harry and Hermione looked at each other and shrugged. It had been a foolish escapade. They could admit that now.  
  
"I—"  
  
"And you knew that he was one of _their_ children, Minerva. Every year I notify you personally and every year I ask you to make sure that they receive special protection and every year you ignore my request and nearly every year, the students disappear."  
  
"It—"  
  
"Did you ever meet with Mr. Clairemont? Did you obtain progress reports on him specifically from the faculty? Did you notice anything was amiss about him? Did you even attempt to do your duty, _Headmistress_?" he seethed, ensuring that the last word was dripping with sarcasm and venom.  
  
"Th—"  
  
"Minerva, this year I was not merely their tutor, I was their bloody legal guardian. I deserved the same responsiveness that you would have given any other parent with a special request and you let him slip through your fingers anyway!"  
  
_Any other parent._ As distressed as she was at the thought of Leopold, smaller and slighter than most other children his age, roaming about Britain by himself, Hermione couldn't help but let her heart swell when she heard it.  
  
Minerva, for the time being, seemed to give up on the idea of responding to him and merely stood there, listening to him, watching him as he paced around the sitting room like a caged tiger.  
  
"I have two more due to start next year, Minerva. Can I expect them to have no better chance than all the others? Should I resign myself to losing them, too, because you couldn't be bothered to give your neediest students a bit of your blessed attention?  
  
"Is this what Hogwarts has become, Minerva? After the war and everything that happened there, the school has decided not to respond to the very reasonable requests and concerns of parents regarding special needs their children have? Or have you too decided that a different standard applies to those with certain backgrounds?"  
  
He stopped pacing and talking and stood facing Minerva. The mask was gone and the emotions were clear on his face. Anger. Disappointment. Fear. Worry.  
  
_The emotions you'd expect to see on the face of any parent whose child had gone missing, really,_ Harry thought. The same emotions that would course through his veins if it were his son who had run away from Hogwarts and was now missing.  
  
"Hermione," Harry whispered. At his quizzical look, she nodded. The might be listening to this exchange, and her sudden return was going to be jarring enough as it was. Best to go announce her return to them, hopefully distract them. She quietly took her leave from the sitting room and made her way upstairs, feeling the weight of the day with every step she took.  
  
Had she really awoken that morning in Sydney? Had Severus accomplished an impossible feat of Apparition to find her? Had they really flown the entire way back? And now to be confronted with such haunting news… too much for one day.  
  
She heard footsteps behind her and saw Luna approaching her. "Best not to do it alone," she whispered. Hermione took her friend's hand and squeezed it.  
  
"I'm glad you're back," Luna said. "I knew you would be. He's been… hollow."  
  
"Hollow?"  
  
Luna nodded. "Like that which makes him _him_ was missing. Now it's back. You're back. And you're never leaving him again, are you?"  
  
It wasn't so much a question as it was a statement of fact. Hermione nodded.  
  
"I figured he'd ask you when he found you," Luna said. "I'm very happy for you. Both of you. And for them. This will be good for them."  
  
"I hope it'll be good for all of us," Hermione replied. "Unfortunately, this," she gestured down the stairs, "will overshadow anything else. It'll hurt all of them. Especially Ermengarde."  
  
Luna nodded grimly. "We were so close with him."  
  
"I thought we were, too."  
  
"Do you suppose something happened?"  
  
"I haven't the slightest idea. We owl weekly, and he's never mentioned anything. What about Neville—has he heard anything?"  
  
Luna shook her head. "Nothing."  
  
"When do you think we should tell them?"  
  
"Not anytime soon," Luna whispered. "For some stupid reason I can't help but think he might be found in time to get him back there, so there would be no reason to let them know if that's the case. We just don't know enough yet."  
  
"Right," Hermione said.  
  
"Let's take you to them. That'll distract them enough to give us all time to decide what ought to be done."  
  
With a nod, Hermione followed Luna into the library, where the children were scribbling on pieces of parchment. Fourteen heads turned at the sound of the door opening. Fourteen pairs of eyes widened when they saw who it was. Fourteen pairs of feet scurried over to the door and fourteen pairs of arms wrapped around Hermione, pushing her to the ground.  
  
Over the sobs and cries and laughter, she could discern that they were, indeed, relieved that she had returned. They did not seem traumatised, just relieved. The realisation brought warmth to Hermione's heart. They hadn't suffered any severe trauma as the result of her actions. The relief brought tears to her eyes.  
  
"I will always return," Hermione assured them, giving them kisses on the forehead, a bit hard to do with some of them grasping whatever part of her they could find so tightly that she was beginning to lose circulation in her extremities. "Always."  
  
\-------  
  
His ranting completed, Severus sank back into the sofa and run his hands through his hair.  
  
"I am terribly sorry, Severus," Minerva said, finally chancing his temper to speak to him. He raised his eyes to hers. Their relationship had never gone back to the friendly banter it had been before Dumbledore's death, and never would come close after all that had passed between them. However, they had, in the past six years, managed a cordial working relationship with one another as he had sent child after child to Hogwarts.  
  
He narrowed his eyes at her. "I don't want apologies from you, Minerva," he said in a dangerous icy voice.  
  
She gave a curt nod. "I know."  
  
With a concerned glance at Longbottom and without another word, she stepped into the floo and returned to Hogwarts.  
  
Severus's mind still raced. Where had he gone wrong? Where the hell had he gone wrong with this one? With all the others, he could identify his failures. Too many children and only one of him. His naïve belief that they would be protected at Hogwarts, as he had always protected his charges. His lack of legal status to be called to Hogwarts in the event of trouble; the Ministry had always got those letters, and Glastonbury had done nothing about them. A lack of resources to address the most serious problems before they left for Hogwarts.  
  
But with Leopold Clairemont… he couldn't figure it out. He'd done everything right, or so he thought.  
  
Was this some sort of karmic compensation for having reconciled with Hermione? Was this his punishment for finding personal fulfillment and peace for the first time in his wretched life?  
  
The voice was long gone from his mind, but faced with yet another failure, he couldn't help but blame himself. Who else was there to blame, truly?  
  
"Severus…"  
  
He looked up at the sound of the voice he loathed to hear and saw Longbottom staring at him with a concerned look. Neville bloody Longbottom.  
  
"Where the hell were you when this happened?" he hissed. "You were supposed to keep an eye on him, to be there for him. He's in your bloody house!"  
  
"Severus—"  
  
"No! Do not 'Severus' me! You had one _fucking_ responsibility whilst at Hogwarts—to keep an eye on Leopold Clairemont and report to me if there were any problems. One. Fucking. Responsibility. And do not tell me that you were too busy with your teaching duties to do so—you teach an elective subject part-time. I taught a mandatory subject full-time for all seven years, worked as a re-doubled agent, kept my stories straight for two masters through a war, and still managed to keep tabs on you bloody lot and saved your wretched necks from trouble more times than you will ever know! Longbottom, you are positively incompetent at everything you attempt. Have you no capacity to do the right thing? How do you sleep at night?"  
  
"Severus!" Harry protested, gingerly placing a hand on his shoulder that Severus did not try to shrug off. Longbottom looked pale and flushed at the same time, taking shallow breaths. "Neville checked in with Leopold every week. He told me himself. They had a weekly tea date. Leopold never mentioned anything to him. Right, Neville?"  
  
Longbottom nodded, his eyes averting Severus's.  
  
"Whatever happened happened very quickly, correct? You last met with him on Thursday, and he seemed happy and was doing well in all of his classes. Then you were roused out of bed this morning by one of his housemates, correct?"  
  
Longbottom nodded again. "She said that he had to find something in London."  
  
"Then maybe he's coming here?" Harry speculated.  
  
"Couldn't say," Longbottom said. "The student didn't say much; I don't think she knows much. She said it came as a surprise to her, too, that he had seemed perfectly fine the day before."  
  
"So you see?" Harry said in a gentle voice, no doubt one he used with his son. "There was nothing anyone could have done. There were no signs, nothing. Nothing Neville could have done. Nothing you could have done. Nothing any of us could have done."  
  
Severus shook his head. "I could have pushed for counseling services at Hogwarts. Whatever this was, a lapse, a flashback, whatever, it… it should have been addressed."  
  
"He had me," Longbottom said in a soft voice. "And he had Luna. I brought her along sometimes to talk to him. He had Hermione; they owled each other."  
  
"There wasn't anything more you could have done, Severus," Harry said soothingly. "Take comfort in that. Sometimes everything isn't enough."  
  
Harry gave Neville a barely perceptible nod. Understanding his meaning, Neville softly left the room and climbed the stairs to join Luna and Hermione.  
  
Severus collapsed into the sofa and put his head in his hands again. Harry sat down gingerly beside him and noticed that, ever so slightly and silently, Severus was shaking. Making sure they were alone in the room, Harry put his arm at Severus's back. For the second time that day, Severus did not brush him off.  
  
"I thought I did everything right this time," Severus whispered.  
  
"You did everything you could," Harry replied in an equally quiet voice. "Sometimes it's just not meant to be."  
  
If Severus leaned into Harry's touch ever so slightly, or if a small sound of anguish escaped from the back of his throat, neither man acknowledged it.  
  
And never would.  
  
\---------  
  
Thestrals were far slower than Leopold had expected.  
  
The way Mr. Potter had told it (and the way it had read in _Hogwarts, A History_ ), it had seemed like the journey from Hogwarts to London on thestral-back would take only a couple of hours. Instead, half the day had gone by and Leo didn't think that he was even halfway there yet.  
  
At this rate he wouldn't reach London until after dark.  
  
He wondered if a broom would have been faster.  
  
He was going to be gone far longer than he'd intended.  
  
_Bugger._  
  
\-------  
  
Severus entered the cellar and cast a strong silencing spell. He pointed his wand at an old, dirty, pewter cauldron sitting abandoned on a dusty workbench in the corner and transfigured it into a crystal vase filled with bright red roses sprinkled with dew. He walked to the other side of the room and sheathed his wand. With a sneer and a strangled cry he violently threw both of his hands toward the bouquet in a powerful flurry of wandless magic and blasted the crystal and roses into a shower of sparkling shards and fragrant scraps.  
  
"Severus?"  
  
He turned to see Hermione standing on the stairs, having clearly followed him down there. He had forgotten to lock the door. Meeting her surprised stare, he dropped his arms and fell into a stool.  
  
She approached him and wrapped her arms around him from behind, resting her chin on her shoulder.  
  
"Neville's reckons he ought to go to Diagon Alley with Luna to see if they can find anything of Leopold."  
  
"Hmm," Severus responded. "I should go, too. I just need to…" He let his voice trail off. He knew he needed to calm himself before he could (or should) go out among other people. He didn't lose control often, but when he did, it simply wasn't safe to be around him.  
  
"What was that for?" Hermione whispered, gesturing at the destruction in the corner.  
  
His response was preceded by a long, deep sigh.  
  
"I felt like destroying something beautiful."  
  
\----------  
  
They had decided it was best to split up for the search. Hermione and Harry would stay back at Grimmauld to watch the other children and be available on the odd chance that Leopold would return there. Luna and Longbottom had gone to Diagon Alley, figuring Leopold would at least start in the wizarding part of London.  
  
Never, in Severus's experience, had any of his graduates left Hogwarts in favour of Diagon Alley. They left Hogwarts to escape notice and scorn of other wizards. To run to Diagon Alley would be like jumping into the pit of voles. Head-first.  
  
He thought it was a fool's errand to visit there, but they had insisted. Fine. They could check there if they wanted. If it would make them feel better.  
  
It was getting dark out, now. Leopold couldn't have gone to Diagon Alley; if he had, Luna and Longbottom surely would have come across him by now. It was only one street, full of people. An unattended child at this time of year would certainly draw attention.  
  
Though Leopold was getting taller…  
  
In his experience, when they ran away, they often sought the Muggle world. There they could disappear, become anonymous. Only out of sheer desperation would they ever return to the wizarding world, typically in some form of servitude to a Madam or criminals. The Muggle world was difficult on them. All were purebloods, with little to no experience in that strange world. Severus had been trying to correct that in the past year; between himself, Hermione, and Harry, they could give a fairly comprehensive picture of Muggle life. Grimmauld Place was in a Muggle neighbourhood, so even though the children rarely left the house more than once or twice per week, there was at least a subliminal exposure to the world.  
  
Maybe that would work in Leopold's favour.  
  
Severus sighed. Having exhausted his search of Camden, he Disapparated and decided to check out Southwark.  
  
It would be a long night.  
  
\---------  
  
Luna and Neville had been wandering Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley for hours, and there had been no sign of Leopold.  
  
"How long did it take us to get to London when we rode on the thestrals?" Luna asked.  
  
"Bugger if I know," Neville said sadly. "Didn't really pay attention at the time, though it felt like it didn't take as long as it should have, given the distance.  
  
Luna hummed thoughtfully. "I just wondered if it was possible that he wasn't here yet, that he'd been delayed or is still en route."  
  
Neville shook his head. "He left sometime around two this morning, maybe earlier. If that's when he left, he'd have arrived hours ago."  
  
"You don't suppose something happened to him on the way?"  
  
Neville chose his reply carefully. "If he did, we wouldn't have any way of knowing right now. Might as well check out this area thoroughly; this is the most likely place to find him.  
  
Luna nodded and took Neville's hand, squeezing it. "Okay," she whispered.  
  
\---------  
  
Having never flown on a thestral before, Leopold was at a bit of a loss as to how to dismount. He was higher off the ground than he expected he would be, and he wasn't sure how to command the beast to kneel down so he could slip down without risking injury to himself.  
  
It had been an easy enough creature to control, really. It flew quickly and quietly across Britain and brought him to a secluded mews off of Diagon Alley. Remarkably, it had never once got lost or brought him down into sight of a Muggle area, at least not that he could tell.  
  
Leopold finally decided that he really wasn't that far off the ground and decided to leap from the thestral's side. He landed on his feet, albeit with his knees deeply bent and pain shooting up from the bottoms of his feet. He shrugged, supposing it was symptomatic of his House. And what kind of Gryffindor shies away from the risk of a little bit of pain for the sake of adventure?  
  
_Daring, nerve, and chivalry…_  
  
Leopold was enough of a Slytherin to know that it was a fine line indeed between bravery and recklessness. A part of him thought he might just have stepped over the line this time. Another part of him thought that he could, and should, do no less than what he was doing right now.  
  
Brigita was here, somewhere, and he was not leaving until he found her.  
  
The day had grown cold and dark and the shops were closing up. The Alley was full of people bustling in and out for the last transactions of the day. He wound his way through the crowd, pulling his hood over his head to avoid anyone recognising him. He knew that he was beginning to resemble his father physically, and this would not be a good place to be outed as a Rosier.  
  
Leopold rounded a corner only to see Professor Longbottom and Miss Lovegood walking the street, seemingly searching for something. Probably him.  
  
No good. They would only take him back to Hogwarts or Grimmauld Place before he could find Brigita.  
  
No doubt he would be in significant trouble for this.  
  
Best not to leave empty-handed.  
  
As they approached, but before they could see him, he slipped behind a stack of crates until they passed and disappeared around another side alley.  
  
Exhaling in relief, Leopold drew his hood more tightly over the top of his head and continued.  
  
\--------  
  
Long after Severus, Luna, and Neville had left, Hermione ascended the stairs and found herself pulled into a strong embrace.  
  
"Hermione," Harry breathed. The day had been so hectic that he hadn't been able to properly welcome her home. "We were all so worried."  
  
She closed her eyes and squeezed Harry back. "I'm so sorry. I let everyone down, I walked away from them, from you, from this, I did everything I swore I wouldn't and for such a bloody stupid reason…"  
  
Harry shook her head and pulled her closer. "You did nothing wrong. You went a little mad under stress. We all go a little mad sometimes. They were fine; they're better now that you're back. Severus is better now that you're back."  
  
"I'm better now that I'm back," Hermione whispered.  
  
"So am I." He pulled back a bit. "I do have a confession to make, Hermione…"  
  
"You showed him?"  
  
He nodded. "I'm sorry."  
  
She shook her head. "I think he needed to see it to know what it was and what it wasn't."  
  
"I think I did too." At her quizzical look, he elaborated, "I haven't thought about it since it happened. I felt… wrong about it. I hadn't let myself think about it, hadn't wanted to. The shame, the guilt, all of it. Now, having watched it again after all this time, I can let it go."  
  
Hermione nodded. "Telling Severus about it, while difficult and painful, helped me let it go too."  
  
Harry gave her a soft smile. "I'm so glad it didn't hurt our friendship."  
  
"Me too. It would have killed me to lose you on top of losing Ron."  
  
Harry pulled her into an embrace. "You'll never lose me, Hermione."  
  
"And neither will you lose me," she whispered. "I promise I'll never run away again, not like that, and not to the other side of the world."  
  
"And I promise," Harry said in a strangled voice, "to never, ever, be the source of conflict between you and Severus. You know how I can be a bit single-minded, and I know it caused you both trouble, even though I never meant anything by it. I guess what I'm trying to say is… I'll try to be less… 'me' in the future."  
  
Hermione shook her head. "Never stop being you, Harry Potter. Ever."  
  
\---------  
  
Leopold knew what he'd heard the seventh year Slytherin boy say: that it had been a brothel, and it had been in Knockturn Alley. Unfortunately for him, he had no idea what a brothel looked like, or how to go about finding one. He had naïvely assumed that it would be like finding a pub or a quidditch shop or an owl post office—there would be some sort of sign hanging out into the street naming the establishment and its type of business.  
  
Now that he thought about it, Leopold decided that brothels probably did not want to come right out advertising their presence. Wizards of repute would avoid such establishments for fear of being seen in or around them… wouldn't they?  
  
He crouched against a damp brick wall next to some bins and wrapped his arms around his knobby knees. This "rescue mission" wasn't going well at all. He supposed he ought to have tapped into his Slytherin heritage and upbringing before charging off like a Gryffindor—got some more information about the location, how to enter, what to look for, et cetera. Instead, he'd grasped what was, in hindsight, a very vague description of a place that might not even exist. He wondered what Snape would say if he knew. He shuddered at the thought. He'd run away from Hogwarts in the middle of the night without warning and had been gone for an entire day. Of course Snape knew by now. He'd seen Professor Longbottom and Luna Lovegood earlier. Snape was probably searching for him, too.  
  
His pale grey eyes followed a man in a hooded cloak as he walked to a ramshackle building with a door falling off its hinges. He tapped his wand in a simple pattern (it looked almost like he was drawing a pentagram) and revealed a sturdier, larger building in its place, with red lanterns hanging in the windows.  
  
Leopold's little brow furrowed as the building transfigured back into the shack a few moments after the man entered. He wasn't surprised by magically masked buildings—they were quite common in the Wizarding World, particularly among wizard homes in Muggle areas, like Grimmauld Place—but he found it curious that such a building would be disguised this way in a magical area. Particularly in the alley infamous for illicit activity.  
  
He considered this for a few moments while another man approached the building, tapped his wand in the same manner, and disappeared inside. A few minutes after that, another man exited the building, his face red and his bald head dripping with sweat. The sweaty man looked from side to side before Disapparating.  
  
The pieces fell into place as Leopold slowly rose off the ground. This was it. This was where Brigita was. He could feel it in the depths of his little Gryffindor heart. This was why he couldn't find it despite all the laps he'd done of Knockturn Alley; the building had been hiding from him.  
  
Having seen the pattern a few times, Leopold ran across the alley to the building and withdrew his own wand from his narrow sleeve. As he approached the door he mentally reviewed the pattern, only to be spat back about five feet from the door and thrown arse-first onto the pavement. It was as if he had walked into a wall and been shoved violently out on the other side.  
  
Getting to his feet, Leopold saw a faded white line appear in a half-circle around the door. An age line, if he had to guess; there was one drawn around the potions storeroom at Hogwarts.  
  
_Bugger_ , he thought.  
  
It was too late to go back to Hogwarts. He had journeyed too far and risked too much to walk away empty-handed. He loved his big sister too much to not at least attempt to valiantly rescue her.  
  
_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry set Gryffindor apart…_  
  
Hoping that riding in on a noble steed was not a requisite part of the Gryffidor rescue, Leopold set off down the alley. He knew that it was a dark place full of dark wizards with dark intentions, but he couldn't help but cling to the smallest thread of hope in his heart that someone, anyone, might be willing to help a child help his sister.  
  
\-------  
  
_"Come home, Severus,"_ the silver otter implored him. _"Come home and regroup; Luna and Neville are back, and you should all touch base with each other."_  
  
Severus shook his head. He didn't want to go back without the boy.  
  
But it was getting late, he'd been all over every corner of Muggle London he could think of, and had nothing to show for it.  
  
He supposed it wouldn't be a terrible idea to return to Grimmauld Place to learn what Luna and Longbottom had accomplished.  
  
With a sad sigh and a feeling of failure, Severus Disapparated.  
  
\--------  
  
The pile of alcohol-soaked rags Leopold stumbled over began cursing at him.  
  
He looked beneath his feet to find a man with stringy blonde hair and a black eye. Leopold thought the man looked familiar to him, but couldn't place exactly where.  
  
The man sneered and turned away, curling back against the wall. He looked angry and agitated and, above all, desperate.  
  
A thought sprang to Leopold's mind.  
  
"Sir, please, can you help me?"  
  
The man shooed him away with an inelegant wave of his hand. He might be drunk. Leopold couldn't be sure. He had never seen a man drunk before. If Snape ever got drunk, he never did so in front of them. As for his parents… he honestly couldn't remember.  
  
The thought of so few memories of his parents did not fill his heart with the emptiness it often did. When he overheard his classmates complain about their parents, his thoughts immediately jumped to Snape by way of comparison.  
  
How very odd.  
  
Shaking his head to bring his thoughts back to the present, he looked down at the man, who had shut his eyes and done his best to make himself disappear into the dirty brick wall he was huddled against.  
  
Leopold knelt down next to the man so that they were eye-to-eye. He knew that this was risky and probably very stupid, but he had no other choice.  
  
"Sir, I need your help," he repeated.  
  
The disheveled man grunted and turned away even more. "Go away," he muttered.  
  
"Please!"  
  
"Leave me alone! Get the hell out of here!"  
  
Leopold felt in his pocket and found the galleon Clara had pressed into his hand just as he had mounted the thestral. "You never know when you might need it," she had said. Turning it over in his palm a few times, he said, "I can pay you."  
  
The man struggled to right himself but he eventually managed a seating position, leaning against the wall, looking Leopold in the eye.  
  
"You listen to me," the man said in a dangerous drawl that belied a posh pedigree. "You are in a place that no one your age should ever be. Ever. You have no idea the things that happen to people like you who find themselves here, and you do not want to know. I don't care what you think you need to do here, but it's not important enough for you to linger after dark. Now get out of here before something happens to you."  
  
"But I have to save her!" Leopold spat desperately, gesturing wildly at the brothel disguised as a shack. "My sister—she's in there—they have her—I have to get her out of there!"  
  
The man's bloodshot eyes narrowed a bit. "In… there?" He pointed at the shack, which was just transforming back from the larger, brightly-lit building.  
  
Leopold nodded.  
  
The man met his eye for a moment before staring out at the street in front of him. He seemed to be debating with himself. Silence grew louder as the night grew darker and the air grew colder and foggier.  
  
Leopold's heart was pounding so hard that he was sure the strange man could hear it echo off the brick walls.  
  
Finally, the man, without looking at Leopold, slowly got to his feet. He wobbled a little, then righted himself completely, placing one hand on the wall.  
  
"What's her name?"  
  
"Brigita."  
  
The man gave Leopold a searching look. "Brigita," he repeated evenly.  
  
Leopold nodded.  
  
"Rosier?"  
  
Leopold hesitated before nodding again, praying that it wouldn't ruin his chance at receiving help.  
  
The man merely closed his eyes, shook his head, and said nothing else before he Disapparated away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three guesses who that was. Anyone out there rooting for Leo?
> 
> "I felt like destroying something beautiful," is taken from the film Fight Club.
> 
> "We all go a little mad sometimes," is taken from the film Psycho. Truer words were never spoken.
> 
> Chapter title is part of a lyric from the title song of the musical "Into the Woods."
> 
> Coming Up: Part two of this chapter.


	27. ...I Think I See a Glimmer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was mad. It was risky. It was dangerous. It was bloody stupid.
> 
> Merlin if the boy wasn't a bloody Gryffindor through and through.

The candles burned low in the ground floor sitting room as Severus and Hermione sat side by side on the settee, staring at the fire, the way they had the night their relationship began.  
  
He'd come home. He hated this—sitting here, doing nothing, feeling helpless. But Hermione was right; walking around London aimlessly would serve no purpose but to exhaust him. If he hadn't found Leopold by now, then he hadn't gone to any of the usual haunts of his graduates.  
  
He was at a loss for where to look next.  
  
Luna and Longbottom had made a full report to him upon his arrival. They'd scoured every single corner of Diagon Alley and Knockturn Alley: every shop, every hiding place, every rubbish bin, everything. They'd spoken with every shopkeeper, shown his picture to a number of people. No one had seen him.  
  
Luna and Longbottom had looked tired and dejected. He'd felt the same.  
  
Either Leopold had never been there, or he had actively hidden from them if he had.  
  
Not for the first time in his life, Severus wished for a spell that would locate a person. There had to be something he could do to keep track of them—something that would allow them to call to him or for him to reach them and Apparate to their sides at will.  
  
He swallowed thickly as he thought of the mark on his arm and the purpose for which the Dark Lord had used it. He abandoned the train of thought immediately. Even if he meant to use the Protean charm from a desire to do good, it was too much. He would never do to them what the Dark Lord had done to him and their parents, even for their own safety.  
  
He sighed heavily. How could he have let this happen again?  
  
"I've made so many mistakes," Severus whispered.  
  
"Hush, love," Hermione said, stroking his forearm. "You did the best you could. You always have, Severus. Always."  
  
He shook his head. "No. I hesitated. I made mistakes. I am the one responsible for what happened. You always pushed me to get the girls out of the brothel, and I never did. For stupid, stupid reasons. I put my own fear ahead of their needs. My own fear of the risk involved. My own… _cowardice_." He spat the word out like a bad potion. "I chose some over others. And in the end, was it worth it? Does it make any sort of bloody difference? I took the lives of innocents. Again."  
  
"That's not true, sweetheart, and you know it. You always put them first. Always."  
  
He shook his head. "If I hadn't gone to find you…"  
  
"…Leopold still would have left Hogwarts," Hermione admonished. "According to Neville, he was already gone by the time you left. And if that had anything to do with it, it's me who bears that blame. Me. Not you."  
  
He sighed. "I should have listened to you."  
  
"You listen to me all the time."  
  
"No… about them. I should have brought the girls here. I should have stayed at the hospital with Xavier Yaxley. I should go to Azkaban more often. I should…"  
  
"…Keep doing what you're doing." Hermione ran her hands through his short black hair. "There's no such thing as perfect in this situation, Severus. You're doing the best that you can. That's all you can do in this situation. That's the best you can do in this situation: try your best."  
  
"And with you," he said, turning to his fiancée. "This night should have been about you. I should be toasting you with champagne and making love to you on a duvet sprinkled with rose petals."  
  
"Do you honestly think I care about any of that?" Hermione asked incredulously. "Severus Snape, you and I are together because of them. We fell in love with one another through our commitment to them. Our commitment to each other is rooted in our commitment to them. And while I do believe we are very well-suited for one another, and that we're a brilliant pair, I seriously doubt we would have found our way to one another without them. They helped us see each other for who we really are. They were the great equalizer, the ones who forced us to cut the crap and be honest with ourselves and each other, because anything less would have shortchanged them. They pushed our comfort zone and made us see both each other and the world in a brand new light. So, Severus, I want you to shut your mouth about that romantic claptrap. Not only does it not matter tonight of all nights, it also wouldn't be you."  
  
Severus's face flushed, only slightly. "You're right," he said. "But I still think you deserve so much better than what I am able to give you."  
  
She rolled her eyes in a perfect imitation of him. "Enough with the self-pity. I know what I signed up for. I knew it all the way back then, and I know it now. And believe it or not, mister, I know you. I know what you are and what you are not. So stop. This night isn't about us."  
  
Severus's face fell. "No, it isn't."  
  
Hermione gripped his knee, careful not to rub it in the way that made him amorous. "We will find him, Severus."  
  
He shook his head. "I never find them in time. Before I lose them for good."  
  
"You aren't in this alone anymore," Hermione pointed out. "You have me and Harry and Luna and Neville. We are all in this with you. Today we failed to find him. So tomorrow we will go out and look for him again."  
  
Severus turned to face her, his face full of sadness and resignation. "And if we don't find him tomorrow?"  
  
"Then we get up the next day and we look for him again."  
  
"And if we fail again?"  
  
"Then we get up the next day and we look for him again."  
  
"And if—"  
  
"Severus!" Hermione said, cupping his face in her hands and forcing him to meet her eye. "We look again! We look again and again and we never stop. We never give up, not on them and not on us. Do you understand?"  
  
She was alarmed. Severus, for all his pessimism and resignation about the world, had never succumbed to a fit of melancholy like this before. At least not in her presence. She considered that this was his way of asking for help, of wanting to be told that things would be all right. Stubborn, proud man wouldn't stoop to ask her directly; as was generally the case with him, she'd had to read between the lines. Severus had never asked her for her help before. Oh, she'd forced it on him more times than she could count now, but he'd never actually sought it. He was in a bad way if he was seeking her aid.  
  
He must have allowed himself to get his hopes up about Leopold, and now he was suffering for it.  
  
He closed his eyes and shook his head minutely. "I don't want to fail them. Not again."  
  
"Severus," Hermione said in the tone she'd always reserved for bullying Ron and Harry into doing their homework. "No man is a failure who has friends. You have us, and we are not giving up, and we are not going to let you give up. We will find him. We will save him. I promise."  
  
"Don't make promises you can't keep."  
  
Hermione hardened her expression. "I always keep my promises."  
  
The door burst open, startling both of them out of their lament. They jumped up and aimed their wands at the door in a defensive stance, Severus instinctively pushing Hermione behind him. It took only a fraction of a second to register who it was and what had happened, but to Severus and Hermione, it felt like years.  
  
There stood Leopold Clairemont, his face and hair dirty and windswept, clinging to the hand of a skinny, scantily-clad teenage girl who clung back just as tightly. She looked frightened and relieved all at once, with tears in her eyes, making her mascara run in streaks down her pale face. It was her, the eldest Rosier child. Brigita.  
  
Standing behind them was the emaciated face of Draco Malfoy.  
  
A feather could have knocked Severus and Hermione over.  
  
Leopold and Severus stood staring at one another.  
  
"I'm sorry!" Leopold cried, grasping his sister tightly as if one of the adults would steal her away if he let go. Any anger he might have felt at the man for keeping this a secret from him vanished as he was consumed with worry for his sister's safety; for that he would swallow his pride and demand no explanations, if it meant Brigita would be safe. "I found out where she was, and what they were making her do, and I had to get her out of there. You didn't save her, so I had to save her. I couldn't leave her there! I'm sorry!" He was sobbing now, grasping his sister tighter.  
  
 _As soon as the man had Disapparated, Leopold had fallen to his knees, gripping his head in his hands, trying to stop the tears that insisted on coming. This man had been his last hope. With him gone, there was really no one else he could turn to. None of the men going in and out of that horrible place would stop to help him—they were the ones hurting Brigita. And Leopold couldn't get in on his own. He couldn't get a message inside to her, and for whatever reason she seemed like she couldn't leave on her own. He also had no idea where he was relative to Grimmauld Place, and had no means of contacting his friends, or Snape, or any of the others in the house.  
  
He felt helpless and pathetic and weak and small.  
  
He had tried to be a hero and failed miserably.  
  
What could he do now?  
  
The sound of a loud crack of Apparition brought him back to himself. He stood up, jerking around wildly to see who it was. He cried out in relief at what he saw.  
  
The blonde man, standing before him and holding a scantily-clad and struggling Brigita tightly by the upper arm.  
  
"Let me go!" she screeched at the man, hitting him with her free hand. The man stood there, stone-faced and still, as if she wasn't there at all.  
  
"Brigita!" Leopold shouted. At the sound of her name, Brigita turned and saw her brother. She made a loud cry of relief before shrugging out of the man's grasp and throwing herself into her little brother's arms. Though he wasn't so little anymore. He was already taller than her, even if only just. Years of malnutrition and abuse had kept her rather petite for her age. "Oh, God," she sobbed, clinging to him as tightly as he did to her. It had been over two years since they'd last seen each other.  
  
Leopold drew away a bit to examine his sister. She was wearing hardly any clothes, had a bruise over her right eye that a charm failed to hide, and she was so, so skinny. Her hair was about three shades lighter than it had been before, and was curled and fluffed out. She was shaky, as if she hadn't eaten for a day, her skin was deathly pale as if she hadn't seen the sun in months, and her eyes were so splotched with mascara and tears she looked like a panda bear.  
  
"Oh, Brigita," Leopold sighed, the weight of her plight heavy on his shoulders.  
  
"I never wanted you to see me like this," she whispered, shame-faced.  
  
Leopold shook his head resolutely and pulled her back into his arms. "I'm just so glad I found you."  
  
"You shouldn't be here," she said. "This is a dangerous place, you could get hurt. And I'm a different person than you knew. They'll realise I've gone soon, and I can't have them finding you. They'll punish me for certain, but I won't let them punish you. I belong here now, in… that place." Her voice dripped with resignation.  
  
Leopold fiercely shook his head and gripped her so hard she felt she might suffocate. "You belong to me, Brigita," he whispered. "You belong to me. And we belong in this world, together. Not here, not in places like this. We don't belong here. You don't belong here. This isn't your life anymore. I won't let them hurt you anymore. Never again."  
  
Brigita huffed a small laugh. "Where will we go?" she asked, half humouring him, half curious.  
  
"Home," Leopold said. "I'll take you home."  
  
"Where's home? The orphanage?"  
  
"No," he said. "Our real home, with our sister Ermengarde. I'll take you home."  
  
Both of them turned their heads to the blonde man who had rescued Brigita. He stood there looking uncomfortable, clearly aware that his presence was intruding on something private.  
  
Leopold released his hold on his sister, trusting that she would still be there when he returned, and looked at the man. "Sir, I… I don't know how I can thank you. What you've done…"  
  
The man shook his head. "I'm not a bloody hero," he muttered. "So don't you go making me into one."  
  
"We have to get her home," Leopold said. "The way you Apparated with her… could you do it again? With both of us?"  
  
The man hesitated before nodding. "Yes," he said. "Where do you need to go?"  
  
"We live with Mr. Snape," Leopold said. He knew this was a risk; Snape had always said to never mention that he was the one who cared for them. Said it was for their own safety.  
  
The man's eyes widened. "So I see," he said softly.  
  
"You know him?"  
  
The man nodded.  
  
"You've known him for a long time?"  
  
The man nodded again.  
  
"You're Draco Malfoy, aren't you?"  
  
After a pause, the man nodded again. Without another word, Leopold took him by the arm and offered his hand to his sister, who took it firmly. Without a word, the three Disapparated away from Knockturn Alley._  
  
Severus stood, gobsmacked. How had he known about Brigita and where she was? No one had told him, and no one at Hogwarts except for Longbottom knew. Could he have overheard an older student? That had to have been how.  
  
The whole situation fell into place for him. Leopold Clairemont had, on the sketchiest information about the whereabouts of a loved one, sneaked out of Hogwarts in the dead of night, commandeered a thestral, flown across the whole of Britain to London, where he found his way into Knockturn Alley—a place he had never visited before—and found the hidden brothel where his sister was located, convinced a complete stranger to go inside and retrieve her, and brought them back to Grimmauld Place. He had not said a word to anyone, not sought confirmation, not waited a few weeks until he would be in London anyway, not asked for help.  
  
It was mad. It was risky. It was dangerous. It was bloody stupid.  
  
Merlin if the boy wasn't a bloody Gryffindor through and through.  
  
Without a word, Severus dropped his wand and stormed over to the Rosier siblings.  
  
"I couldn't leave her there," Leopold continued to sob, pleading with Severus. "I couldn't leave her."  
  
Standing over them with furious eyes, he held their gaze for a moment before dropping to his knees and pulling them both into his arms.  
  
They wrapped theirs around him, and the three held each other, shaking on the spot.  
  
"I am very angry with you," he said in a low and deadly voice.  
  
"I know," Leopold said in a small choked voice. He pulled back and looked Severus in the eye. "You'll take care of her now, won't you? You took care of her before. She was safe with you before. You have to take care of her again. She can't go back there. She needs you. Please. Please take care of her again."  
  
He looked to Hermione with the same pleading eyes. "Both of you have to take care of her." He turned back to Severus. "You won't send her back there, will you? You won't do that just because you're angry with me, will you?" Leopold was babbling now and he knew it. Silence was too much. If he could keep talking, keep pleading, ineloquent as his words were, Brigita would not go anywhere.  
  
If he threw her out, he threw Leopold out too. He would leave school, find work, do something, anything, to keep Brigita from going back there. He was the man of the family now. He would keep her safe. She was worth it.  
  
In a gruff voice, Severus whispered, "Take your sister upstairs to your room. Ermengarde is waiting for you."  
  
Eyes widening, a grin spreading across his face, Leopold grabbed his sister's hand and pulled her after him. The girl was nervous, not quite looking Severus or Hermione in the eye. "It's all right," Leopold whispered to her. "You're safe now. He'll take care of you again, like he did before. You'll never have to be scared again. He won't let anyone hurt you. He never did before. Come on." Taking her hand, he led his sister up the stairs.  
  
Hermione turned her eyes to the man who had stood in the house only once before, when she had Apparated him in against his will to try to save him.  
  
"Malfoy, did you…?" Hermione's voice trailed off as the emotion overcame her. He had rescued one of them, taken her out of that horrible place, she was certain of it. She knew it, she knew that he wasn't dangerous.  
  
Without further thought she threw her arms around his dirty and weakened body. She knew he hated every second of this, but didn't care. "Thank you," she whispered in a choked voice. "Thank you so much."  
  
Malfoy cleared his throat and pushed her away, averting her eyes. "I remember Brigita Rosier. She was just a tiny thing. Loved her father."  
  
"But how?"  
  
"Madam Lyudmila owed my father several favours." He stared at the floor. "He was the one who kept the Ministry out of her hair, bought the silence of others, you get the idea. Because of him, her business continued to operate and all the freedom she enjoys now is due to him. One way she repaid him was by giving him, and me, the ability to Apparate in and out of her establishment with a girl in our arms. She apparently never lifted it, thinking both of us were dead. Everyone knows my father's dead, and most assume I'm dead too. I guess I am in many ways. Anyway, I suspect that it will be a while before she realises that Brigita is not coming back. I Confunded the man she was with and sent him on his way. Lyudmila probably won't come looking for her until morning."  
  
Hermione opened her mouth to speak but Malfoy continued talking before she could.  
  
"The others…"  
  
"Could you?" Hermione asked hurriedly, before backing up and considering.  
  
Malfoy nodded.  
  
"Do you know who they are?"  
  
Malfoy nodded again.  
  
"Rooms one, three, five, eight, fifteen, sixteen. You know where this house is," Severus said to Malfoy pointedly.  
  
Malfoy nodded and walked to the door to Disapparate again.  
  
"Draco," Severus repeated. Malfoy turned. "You know where this house is."  
  
Understanding his former Head of House's meaning, Malfoy nodded again and walked out the door to Disapparate.  
  
Hermione pulled Severus into her arms. "We've done it—we've found a way to get them out of there that doesn't hurt them or you or put your guardianship in jeopardy!" She huffed small breaths as the enormity of the situation overcame her. "Unless… Malfoy…" She pulled away and looked up at her fiancé. "Oh, God, Severus, what if he gets in trouble for this? What if they lock him up?"  
  
She gulped. "What if he's just sacrificed himself to save them?"  
  
Severus pulled away from her. "That will not happen." He took his coat from the tree in the foyer and went for the door.  
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
"To make sure it does not happen."  
  
"How?"  
  
"Trust me."  
  
"Don't do anything too risky! As you said, you could jeopardise your guardianship of them."  
  
"The Princess of Gryffindor is cautioning the Head of Slytherin about the assessment of risk and the need for self-preservation?"  
  
She growled. "Don't you do anything stupid, Severus Snape! We owe him everything but I also won't have you risking everything we've done here."  
  
He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her forehead. "I will not."  
  
\-----  
  
Ermengarde sat up sharply in bed as she saw the two silhouetted figures standing in the doorway. They looked familiar. Too familiar. So familiar that there was no way this could be real and not a dream.  
  
She rubbed her eyes, expecting the silhouettes to disappear. They did not.  
  
As her vision cleared and adjusted to the darkness she called out in a tiny voice for the two people she know couldn't possibly be standing in her room.  
  
"Leo?" She blinked rapidly, her little eyes filling with tears. "Brigita?"  
  
A sob emerged from someone's voice and suddenly all three Rosier siblings clung to each other on the floor in the middle of the dark room. They held each other and sobbed for both the time they'd lost and the relief at finding their way to each other's arms again, the remnants of their family together once more.  
  
Luna stood in the doorway, her blue eyes filled with tears, as Neville stood behind her, hands on her shoulders, watching the reunion.  
  
"I'll let Minerva know," Neville whispered to his girlfriend, kissing her on the temple. "See if I can't head her off."  
  
"Stay with me," Luna whispered, the enormity of the situation hitting her. "Just for a moment."  
  
Neville squeezed her shoulders. "All right," he said.  
  
Luna smiled. "It's going to be okay, Neville," she said. "I can feel it."  
  
\------  
  
Severus strode purposefully through the foggy alley with the same sternness and swiftness he had as a teacher.  
  
This would all need to be handled most delicately. This was the golden opportunity he thought he'd never have, and he would be damned if he was going to screw this up. He took a deep breath and collected himself. This wasn't like before. He wasn't messing things up anymore. The younger children were improving every day, the one at Hogwarts hadn't been driven out (though whether he'd be allowed back was yet to be determined, but Severus would worry about that later), he had— _gulp_ —a group of loyal friends for the first time in his life, and he was in a meaningful, reciprocal relationship. He was engaged to be married, for fuck's sake. He had accomplished everything else that had seemed impossible only a year ago.  
  
Who was to say he could not, once again, do that which he had once written off as merely a pipe dream? Who was to say that he could not take a gamble and have it pay off? Who was to say his doubt and fears would continue to control him and his decisions?  
  
Not him. Not anymore. That part of him was dead and gone, irradiated in a bath of soft blue light.  
  
It had been a risk before. It still was a risk. That had never been a lie. Even assuming he could get the girls out of there without anyone noticing, which would have been very, very difficult as the establishment was warded against both Portkeys and Apparition—he had tried both years earlier—to do so without suffering any ramifications would also have been next to impossible. Guards prevented him from simply carrying them out the front door. He would have been risking his job at the orphanage and later would have been risking his guardianship. Both were too precious to treat so cavalierly.  
  
It had taken a lot out of him, to effectively choose one group over another to save. It hadn't been the first time he had had to do so—sacrifice one to save another, knowing he could not save both. He prayed (he never prayed) that he would never have to again.  
  
Draco's ability to Apparate both in and out of the brothel was a boon he had dared not dream of. If Draco could manage to do so without attracting attention, Severus could ensure that Draco could do so safely.  
  
He could kick himself for not seeking the wretched boy out sooner.  
  
\------  
  
Harry burst through the floo with crooked glasses, messy hair, and a mis-buttoned shirt stained with baby drool. Hermione had roused him from his sleep with the news.  
  
"He's back? Where?"  
  
"Upstairs, with his sisters."  
  
"Sisters… plural?"  
  
Hermione nodded. Harry shuddered and pulled her into his arms. "Oh, God," he whispered, his voice breaking.  
  
"I know."  
  
A loud crack grabbed their attention and they turned to face it, wands drawn at the open front door. Draco Malfoy appeared for the briefest second with a skinny blonde girl on his arm. It was Valentina Rookwood, one of the girls they had seen at the brothel the night of their visit. With a nod, Malfoy ran back out the door and left the girl there, shaking and covering herself up with her arms. She wasn't naked, but was close enough.  
  
"Valentina?" Hermione asked gently, keeping her distance so as not to frighten the girl. "I'm Hermione, do you remember me? We met…" _Almost a year ago?_ "…before. We're friends with Severus Snape, this is his house. You're safe now. You never, ever have to go back there."  
  
The girl collapsed on her knees, sobbing and shaking her head. Of course she didn't remember them. Not only had it been a long time ago, Harry and Hermione had gone in disguise, to protect themselves from discovery. They hadn't used their real names. They hadn't said a word in front of her.  
  
Even if she had recognised them, they were strangers to her. Valentina had been wrenched from her bed by a strange man and taken to a strange location. She didn't know she was safe. She had no reason to believe she was.  
  
Harry and Hermione looked at each other, both reaching the same conclusion at the same time. Until Severus came back and made the girls realise they were with him in his home, they would have to try to keep them here against their will, and do so without further scaring them or hurting them. They had their work cut out for them tonight.  
  
\--------  
  
Severus stood eye-to-eye with the Madam of Knockturn Alley. He had to play it very cool; there were guards he could see, and, more importantly, those he could not see. Fortunately, for him, he had spent many years mastering wandless magic for certain spells. One he had spent a great deal of time on, and had had the greatest use for, was a wandless, nonverbal Confundus charm.  
  
It was more than just a Confundus charm; more like a very targeted form of Legilimency that worked in tandem with Confundo. It wasn't quite Imperio; the Ministry now had the ability to track the use of any and all Unforgiveables, and if Severus attempted it, Aurors would be all over him, and he could kiss his guardianship good-bye. That would be the least of his worries. Rather, it combined the best of both Confundus and Legilimency. Like a Confundo, the target was disorientated and susceptible to the power of suggestion. Combined with Legilimency, which allowed a person access to memories and thoughts and emotions and project false ones at the same time, it threw a person's mind into disarray. The Legilimens then had but a few moments to take advantage of that disorder and realign the memories in such a way that new ideas mixed in with the existing ones.  
  
The mind of a Confunded person was like the contents of a box that had just been shaken—everything rattled and mixed up but quickly fell back into place. A Legilimens with enough skill could insert false memories into that jumble and, in the short time they were falling back into place, could ensure the false memories fell in such a way as to convince the subject that the memories were real. Doing so quickly, whilst the subject was still under the effect of Confundo but before the subject's head had cleared, would ensure that the mind did not reject the memories as false, but rather accept them as true.  
  
A good wizard could do it in such a way that the person felt only a minor disorientation. A good Legilimens could do it with the person experiencing only a slight headache.  
  
A Legilimens of Severus's calibre, however, could do so without any detection by the subject whatsoever.  
  
It had worked on Mundungus Fletcher all those years ago, when he'd needed to Confund him in a crowded Muggle tavern without drawing attention to himself. He had done so wandlessly, and it had saved Harry's life, as well as the lives of nearly everyone else on that mission, save its leader. It would surely work on Madam Lyudmila. It would have to. Failure was not an option tonight.  
  
The stakes felt just as high as it had that night with Mundungus.  
  
He had discovered through trial and error that the mind was far more susceptible to the persuasion when planting false memories of past events, rather than ideas for future actions. Planting ideas had worked on a weak-minded man like Mundungus Fletcher, but would likely not work on Lyudmila.  
  
If it worked, Lyudmila would believe she'd already let the girls go. The ruse would be complete if the girls were already gone by the time it was finished. She would simply tell the guards that. They wouldn't question her. They never questioned her. People like that never did.  
  
If he could convince Lyudmila that she had already decided to let the girls go, whilst Draco actually got them out of there, they just might get away with this. The girls would be out of there, and Draco would be safe from retribution.  
  
A fortnight ago he would not have risked it, not attempted it. But now, after seeing Leopold fly all the way to London to rescue Brigita, after Apparating all the way to Australia on the basis of a translucent blue light and the whispered echo of his name from his lover's lips, after he had literally flown back to London from Sydney on his own power, after the voice that had tormented him for most of his life had been excised from his head… he decided it was worth the risk. All the others he had taken today had paid off.  
  
He bore his black eyes into hers as he leaned across the counter while she stared back at him with a vacant expression and dumb grin. If he drew his wand, the guards would be all over him. He might be chatting her up or even flirting with her. He had done in the past. It would not attract any attention.  
  
He hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "No man is a failure who has friends," is the angel Clarence's advice to George Bailey in It's a Wonderful Life. I think it's a lesson Severus has had to learn in this story: no man is an island, and working together is more successful than working alone. Hope it's sunk in.
> 
> When Severus Confunds Mundungus in The Prince's Tale, he does not appear to be using his wand. I took that and ran with it.
> 
> Chapter title is a continuation of the lyric from Into the Woods that gave us our title for the last chapter: "Night is getting dimmer/I think I see a glimmer..."
> 
> Coming up: Will Severus's plan work on Lyudmila's sharp mind? And what of Draco?


	28. Where Dwell the Brave at Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I suppose the pertinent question, then, is whether or not you trust us to do right by them?''

_He bore his black eyes into hers as he leaned across the counter while she stared back at him with a vacant expression and dumb grin. If he drew his wand, the guards would be all over him. He might be chatting her up or even flirting with her. He had done in the past. It would not attract any attention.  
  
He hoped._  
  
It had to be something believable and with the proper motivation; otherwise, Lyudmila's mind would reject it as false and Severus would draw unwanted attention to himself, Draco, and the girls. There would be no second chance at this; he had to plant the memories and make them convincing, before her mind rejected them and became impervious to any sort of suggestibility. He also had to have it finished by the time Draco finished. If he failed, or if Draco was caught at any point sneaking the girls out, all could be lost. He thanked God that the rooms had Silencing Charms on them. He also trusted that Draco at least had the sense to Confund or Obliviate any clientele who happened to be in the rooms at the time.  
  
 _Focus_ , he chastised himself. This was not for him to worry about. This was a team effort. He would do his job, and would have to trust Draco to do his. Trust others. Trust a Malfoy. A novelty. But he had no other choice.  
  
Severus's mind raced as he considered the task at hand. This trick worked best if he implanted past memories, rather than ideas for future action. It would only work if the girls were already gone. And the girls could only be taken out if Draco wasn't caught. If he gave Lyudmila no cause to be alarmed when she found them missing from their rooms. If she expected them to be gone. If she believed that she had let them go already.  
  
No room for error tonight.  
  
The woman kept the girls here, despite the ever-present, albeit unlikely, risk of trouble, for two reasons: their profitability, and the fact that the Ministry tended to look the other way when it came to Death Eater children. Ministry officials absolutely knew about this. Many, he sadly knew, were regular customers, comped in exchange for their silence on the matter.  
  
Could he convince her that all of that was in jeopardy?  
  
Clearing his mind, he looked deep into her eyes and looked at her mind. He visualized it as a box with all memories and thoughts neatly packed in small cubes next to and on top of one another. Lyudmila's mind was well-organized and it was easy to see where she kept her memories and thoughts. That would make it a bit easier, though nothing about this would be truly easy.  
  
He leant against the counter and began talking about inconsequential and trivial things and waited for her to make eye contact. When she did, he struck.  
  
Giving her a smirk—a flirtatious one—he shook the box.  
  
 _Confundo._  
  
The thoughts and memories in her mind tumbled around the box like letters in a Boggle set that had just been shaken, and through Severus's manipulations, they fell in exactly the order he wanted. As the thoughts roiled through the box her head, with surgical precision, he inserted small snippets of false memories expertly into the appropriate places. As if they had really happened.  
  
 _He found her dormant fear of the girls being found out by the wrong people, and he grasped onto it and exacerbated it. Encouraged it. Anchored it to the memories, both real and false.  
  
In her most recent memory of reading the Daily Prophet, he planted a memory of an article about a Ministry crackdown on sex trafficking, and how another brothel in a Wizarding village in the Midlands had been closed down for having under-aged girls.  
  
The tipster who'd warned her that the brothel was hot fell in next to a real memory of her bribing another official to keep quiet.  
  
Next to a memory of her paying her guards he inserted the statement from one of the them that comping Ministry officials free "services" would no longer do the trick; Shacklebolt was under pressure and needed to make an example out of someone, and if Lyudmila wasn't careful, it would be her.  
  
He planted the realisation she'd had that if under-aged girls were to be discovered, it would be Azkaban for her and all her profits disgorged and the building leveled.  
  
They were a liability now, no longer an asset. She had to do what was best for her and her business.  
  
He ordered her to forget the customers who had come in to see them that evening. Thankfully, it had been a slow night and there was very little she had to forget.  
  
She should erase all records pertaining to the girls and destroy all other evidence.  
  
The last time she'd seen them as a group, just that morning, she'd told them to get out, to not come back, thrust some coins into their hands and pushed them through the back door. She really had seen them that morning. He expertly manipulated the memory into what he wanted her to believe. What he needed her to believe.  
  
And, of course, she would forget she ever heard a word from Severus about the whole thing. In fact, she should forget that he had even come that night. The guards wouldn't say a word; he was a regular enough patron that his presence, even just to talk, would not raise any eyebrows._  
  
The box settled itself, and Severus was pleased to see that her mind didn't seem to be rejecting the memories as false.  
  
It never would have worked had he not been able to remove the girls simultaneously. It never would have worked had Apparition not been an option. It would never have worked if he'd had to take the girls out the front door. It never would have worked if the girls were not already gone by the time he was finished with her.  
  
It never would have worked had Draco Malfoy not stumbled back into his life.  
  
Severus strode out the door and into the night. He looked to the sky and said a silent prayer of thanks that he had accomplished his part of the mission. He hoped that, for once, Draco Malfoy had not let him down. He hoped that this would not be the karmic payment for his recent personal happiness. With everything now in the hands of fate, he Disapparated back to Grimmauld Place.  
  
\---------  
  
Five girls sat in the ground floor sitting room wrapped in blankets conjured by Harry and Hermione, clinging to each other and eyeing the adults around them with great suspicion. Luna fixed tea in the kitchen and sent it out to the girls with magic. None of the girls had said a word. Luna had advised Harry and Hermione not to try to speak with them; Severus was the person they felt safe with. They should wait for him.  
  
Eventually, the man in question Apparated directly into the ground floor sitting room, immediately facing three drawn wands and the screams of five distraught girls. The wands were lowered as the girls threw themselves into his arms. They were panicked and relieved all at once; Draco Malfoy, who many of them remembered from the war or even as a guest in their homes, had Apparated into a room in which Apparition was impossible, grabbed them by the arms, and Disapparated them into an unfamiliar home full of unfamiliar people. He had told them he was taking them to Severus Snape, and that they would be safe there, but how could they know for certain?  
  
They had withdrawn into themselves, the fear and anxiety and confusion and relief all bursting out at once in one cathartic explosion upon seeing that they were really, truly, gone from that place and in Severus Snape's care once again.  
  
Somehow, he had done the impossible. He had set them free. Brought them home to him. Without harming anyone.  
  
Yet.  
  
As the girls fell into his arms and sobbed into each other and on him, he shut his eyes in relief. He had thought this day would never come. He had given up on it ever happening and eventually had stopped letting himself hope. It had become too, too painful.  
  
After a long time passed, and the girls collapsed into an exhausted sleep, he looked up and saw Hermione and Harry and Luna beaming down at him. They were not so very stupid; it would be a long and difficult road from here. The kind of trauma that these girls had lived through, the hell that had been their very lives, was not the kind papered over and smoothed out. It would take years to undo the damage, and it was very possible that they would never truly recover from it. Would these girls, later in life, ever be able to welcome a gentle and kind lover into their arms? Would they ever feel safe? Only time would tell.  
  
They had their work cut out for them, all of them did. But tonight was not the time to worry about all of that. For now, the girls would just sleep, peacefully and safely, for the first time in many years.  
  
\-------  
  
"Where's Malfoy?" Severus whispered after he had untangled himself from the group on the floor. As he spoke, Harry waved his wand and transfigured a sofa into a bed, then duplicated it five times. He then gently levitated each of the exhausted girls into bed.  
  
"I sent him into the bath, he smelled terrible," Luna said. "Neville's gone to Hogwarts to let Professor McGonagall know that we've found Leopold. He said he'll try to speak with her, let her know the situation, so that Leopold can go back without any trouble."  
  
Severus snorted derisively. "Forgive me for not placing my hopes in him."  
  
"Be nice," Hermione scolded.  
  
"Look, it's been a long day for all of us," Harry said, running his fingers through his hair. "Can't we just worry about all of this tomorrow?"  
  
"How lovely it must be to have the luxury of fobbing off your responsibilities to the indefinite future," Severus drawled out of habit rather than malice. "While I believe I have covered our tracks well enough to ensure that Lyudmila will not set her dogs on me or Malfoy or the girls, there is still the very real issue of the Ministry. They are still technically wards of the government, and that has to be taken care of as soon as possible. I think it unlikely that the Ministry will come banging on my door tonight or tomorrow, demanding my head and carting the girls away, but it is not an impossibility that they would suddenly decide to grow a conscience about the whole thing."  
  
"It's not like we can do anything about any of this tonight," Harry pointed out.  
  
"We have to be prepared," Severus hissed. "Constant—"  
  
"Vigilance," Harry, Luna, and Hermione finished in unison.  
  
"There is also the matter of Malfoy," Severus said. "If he is to stay here, too, we have to plan for that. Where he is to stay, in what capacity, et cetera."  
  
"Something that we can easily discuss in the morning," Harry protested.  
  
"Oh, for the love of God, Harry, if you're so damn tired go home," Severus snapped.  
  
"And come back in the morning to face your ire for having left with all of this unresolved? Not bloody likely."  
  
"Then shut it. And take an Invigoration Draught if you need one. I have some in the cabinet."  
  
"Don't mind if I do," Harry muttered, excusing himself to stagger to the potions cabinet in the kitchen, which all the adults in the household were now permitted to access.  
  
\-------  
  
"Alright," Hermione said in full planning mode once Harry returned. They'd moved up to the attic to sort through everything. She'd even summoned some parchment to take notes. "We have three things to discuss, then: Leopold and Hogwarts; the Ministry and the girls; and Draco Malfoy."  
  
"Malfoy is the easiest one dealt with," Severus said. "He brought the girls here at great personal risk for reasons I have yet to understand. He is not himself anymore, and I do not know what possessed him to do it. I do not know what his presence here will do to the other children; most of them knew him, or at least met him, while their parents were still alive. As I have said to Hermione in the past, many are acutely aware that his family was spared when theirs were not, despite being higher up in the ranks than the others. At the same time, he is the saviour of the elder ones."  
  
"You won't just turn him out?" Hermione asked.  
  
Severus shook his head. "No. Not tonight. But nor will he be allowed free reign of the house. We will put him up in the library, ward the door to keep him in, and in the morning I shall deal with him."  
  
"Deal with him?"  
  
"I find it hard to believe that his motives are purely altruistic," Severus said. "It is, of course, a possibility, but not something I am willing to assume."  
  
"Oh."  
  
Severus could see Hermione mentally checking off the item on an imaginary list as she made notes on her real one. "With regards to Leopold and Minerva, Harry is not wrong in that there is little to be done this evening. As his legal guardian, I am the only one who can speak with Minerva on the subject. In the past, the ones who ran away would not have been granted a chance to return. However, I am inclined to believe that it was because neither Glastonbury nor anyone else from the Ministry ever argued for one. In the morning I will speak with her; hopefully Longbottom hasn't ruined this like he's ruined so many other things he's tried, and Minerva will listen. The boy is a Gryffindor; that should buy him some favour."  
  
He turned to Luna. "Will he contact you once he is finished with Minerva?" Luna nodded. "Then please come and find me as soon as he does, regardless of the hour or where I am, come find me and let me know."  
  
"Of course."  
  
"And the girls?" Hermione asked.  
  
Severus sighed. He had saved the most difficult issue for last. "That one I cannot hope to resolve in one night, or even one week."  
  
"Can't we get you appointed guardian?" Luna asked.  
  
"I'm already guardian of fifteen and the legal limit is technically five," Severus said. "While I would ordinarily not worry about the Ministry following or not following its own laws, it would be a gamble. I called in several favours to get all fifteen appointed to me. To attempt to add another six would be difficult, and would go beyond what influence I already have."  
  
"Would your guardianship of the other fifteen be in jeopardy still?" Hermione asked fearfully.  
  
He sighed. "Yes."  
  
They all stood there, silently, until Luna spoke. "Then you simply won't be their legal guardian anymore." All heads swiveled to look at her. "We simply apply to be their guardians in your stead, and you could apply for the girls."  
  
"We?" Severus was confused.  
  
Luna nodded. "I live here, I can apply for five. Harry is still the owner of this house on paper, he can apply for five. Neville can move in and—"  
  
"Stop," Severus said, raising his hand. "I will agree to no plan that involves Longbottom living under the same roof as me."  
  
"You really want your irrational hatred of him to colour your decision in this?" Harry asked wearily.  
  
 _Yes_ , Severus thought. _Yes, I do._  
  
"Don't listen to him," Hermione said. "I think it's a brilliant idea, Luna. And Neville is already here most nights anyway." Severus gave her a sharp look. "Oh, come off it, you know it's true. Let's make it official. For them. They can all still live here, their guardians will officially be different but you'll still call the shots."  
  
"Hermione, of course, can apply for them, too," Harry said. Hermione shifted and averted her eyes. This wasn't exactly the best time to bring up her and Severus's change in circumstances.  
  
Severus sighed. He didn't like the idea of handing off legal authority for any of them. It's not that he didn't trust any of them; he did. Trusted them more than he probably had ever trusted anyone.  
  
"It won't be an easy process, mind," Severus said. "It isn't failsafe. It could still attract the wrong attention from the wrong sort of people, it could be denied…" He huffed a deep breath. "But I agree, it is probably the safest option. The only option, really."  
  
"Can I help in any way?" Harry asked. "Any way at all? I could try to throw my weight around."  
  
"I am humbled by your modesty, Harry, but you remember from our little visit to the Ministry that there is only so much we can hope to do with your name attached."  
  
"That was different, though," Harry said. "That was about the Ministry publicly and openly doing something. This… this would be a bit more secret."  
  
"That helps, but I still am not entirely confident about the situation," Severus admitted.  
  
"Well, wouldn't you be doing them a favour?" All heads again turned toward Luna. "If you think about it, these girls are a liability to the Ministry. They dislike them so much that their solution was to merely forget about them. If you were to approach them and offer to 'take them off their hands' so to speak, why wouldn't they go along with it?"  
  
"Because, despite all the hero-worship nonsense, there are many within the Ministry who do not hold me in much regard, and I would worry that they might deny it on the basis of my name or theirs. Particularly if word were to get out about the fact that I'm already fostering fifteen others of the same ilk."  
  
Hermione snapped her head up. "What if you weren't to be their guardian but something else?" The other three gave her a puzzled look. "Severus, adoptions and legal guardianships are handled by different departments in the Ministry."  
  
"Yes, but remember, Hermione, you need to be married to adopt," Harry said.  
  
"Yes," Hermione responded, looking pointedly at Severus. "You do."  
  
Severus's eyes widened a bit as he understood her meaning. "Yes, you do."  
  
"So why would…" Harry's voice trailed off as comprehension dawned. " _Oh._ "  
  
"Oh, indeed," Luna said, looking completely unsurprised by the development.  
  
"Were you already…?" Harry's voice trailed off.  
  
Hermione nodded. "Just since earlier today, just before we returned. With all the excitement we returned to, it seemed unimportant. But now we have another reason to do so, and to do it quickly."  
  
She took Severus's hand in hers and gave it a squeeze. "Besides, if we do it quickly, there's no chance of anyone trying to force me into some ghastly meringue and having me parade around like a Muggle faerie princess."  
  
Severus said nothing, but Hermione could read his thoughts quite easily in his eyes: _I truly have found the right person to marry._  
  
"Is it really an option?" he whispered.  
  
"Marrying you quickly? Of course."  
  
"No, I mean adoption." He had never considered it before. He had always been ineligible on account of his marital status and had never dreamed that he would be able to change that.  
  
"It is governed by different rules than a guardianship," Hermione said, reciting the information as if she had committed the law to memory, which she had. "Guardianships are controlled by the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, adoptions by the Department of Family Services. The consent requirements aren't there like there are for guardianships—don't ask me to understand that."  
  
"Can it be fast-tracked?"  
  
"That may be where Harry comes in," Hermione grinned cheekily. "He has an in with the head of the Department of Family Services."  
  
"Who is that?"  
  
"Percy Weasley."  
  
Severus made a face, which caused the rest to giggle. "I know, the world-class prat. But he owes me quite a bit," Harry said, "and when I come to collect, he doesn't refuse me."  
  
"What does he owe you?" Luna asked.  
  
"I happen to know that he switched sides in the war at the last minute to preserve himself, rather than out of loyalty to his family or the Order. The battle was raging, Voldemort was falling, and he believed that he would no longer be on the side of the winners unless he defected back to the Order. He had been on the side of Voldemort and actively supported him through his work at the Ministry, back when it looked like he would win. Thanks to me, and only me, the Wizengamot never heard that."  
  
"How do you know all that?" Severus asked.  
  
"His grief for Fred was genuine," Harry said. "And for whatever reason, when he got pissed beyond all reason at the funeral, he chose to confess it all to me."  
  
"I had no idea," Luna said.  
  
"Few do. Which is why this is such handy information to keep in my back pocket for occasions such as this."  
  
"How very Slytherin of you," Severus mused.  
  
"What can I say, you've rubbed off on me."  
  
"You'd think he would have been able to break the rules on marital status," Severus said, frowning that he had not been informed of this a year ago, when it would have been most convenient.  
  
"He can only do so much for a single man wanting to adopt fifteen children. For a married couple wanting to take in six, he can probably make things happen." Harry shrugged. "There are some rules he can bend, others he can break."  
  
"As it is with all things," Severus replied. "Does he really have final say on this?"  
  
"I might also try whispering in Kingsley's ear, but yes, typically Percy is the one with final say on matters such as adoption, probate, divorces, marriages…"  
  
"Oh, God, Percy is going to be the one to marry us, isn't he?" Hermione realised. After thinking for a moment, Harry nodded. Both of them grimaced and then burst into laughter.  
  
"Oh, Severus," she laughed. "The sacrifices I am already making for you."  
  
Severus gave a half-smile before speaking again. "Then I wonder if we need to transfer the guardianships at all."  
  
"It would be the safest option," Luna pointed out. "The Ministry would have less cause to prohibit the adoptions and you wouldn't have to worry about them coming up with some pretext to take the younger ones away. I know it's been in the back of your mind for the past year." Severus didn't respond, but his non-reaction to the statement said it all.  
  
"I suppose the pertinent question, then," Luna continued, "is whether or not you trust us to do right by them?''  
  
That was the question, wasn't it? Did he trust them all enough to make the right decisions? To do the right thing? To follow his orders in this area?  
  
His answer surprised him.  
  
"Yes," he said softly, meeting each one in the eye. "Yes, I do."  
  
"That sorts everything for tonight, then, doesn't it?" Harry asked hopefully.  
  
"Malfoy is still in the bath," Hermione pointed out.  
  
"Git is still a thorn in my side," Harry muttered.  
  
"After all he's done for us tonight?" Hermione asked incredulously.  
  
"I have a baby and a heavily pregnant wife who likes to get obscure cravings in the middle of the night. You have no idea how little sleep I get."  
  
"Try living my life for a week and see how much you appreciate the amount of leisure time you have now," Severus said.  
  
"Stop," Hermione said, not wanting this to turn into a pissing contest. The two might be friends now, but neither would back down at the chance of besting the other, and she was far too tired for that.  
  
She turned to Severus. "You need a couple extra wands for when Malfoy comes out, correct?" Severus nodded. "So Harry can take a kip down on the sofa, near the girls, so that he's here if they need him and also he can be the extra wand should Draco attempt anything. Luna, bless her, held down the fort whilst I was away, and since we don't know whether Neville will be back in five minutes or five hours, she could probably grab a rest, too." Hermione had never seen Luna look so grateful. She turned back to Severus. "I'll stay with you for when Malfoy comes out."  
  
He shook his head. "You're right that Luna deserves a night's sleep more than anyone in this room. You should go to bed, too, so that we have someone down there with the other kids. The Rosier siblings, in particular, will likely need someone nearby. I'll wait for Malfoy, and when he comes out I'll wake Harry and we can handle him together. If we can't, you're just a Patronus away."  
  
Hermione nodded. "Alright."  
  
As the group disbursed for the evening, Severus caught Hermione by the wrist and pulled her into him for a gentle kiss. "Thank you," he whispered against her lips. It was an inadequate phrase for what he was really trying to say, but it would have to do.  
  
She understood.  
  
\---------  
  
Severus exited the kitchen with a cup of tea sweetened with brandy and tiptoed out to the sitting room. Malfoy was still in the bath (not causing trouble; his Patronus made sure of that) and the girls were still sleeping in their transfigured beds. Leopold had been found, and Hermione was back home.  
  
All things considered, not a bad day at all.  
  
Harry was lying on a settee in the sitting room, not asleep for all his bluster about being tired. He had an orange in his hand and was slowly unpeeling it in one long curly strip.  
  
Severus couldn't help the chuckle that escaped from his lips. Harry whirred around to look at him. "What?" he asked.  
  
"Lily used to do that, too," Severus said, slowly crossing the room to sit in a chair next to Harry. "With oranges. Everyone at Hogwarts would always just vanish the peel with magic, but she always insisted on doing it the Muggle way."  
  
Harry smiled. "I always feel like I've accomplished something if I can remove it all in one go."  
  
Severus smiled to himself. "She always said the same thing."  
  
"Did she eat a lot of oranges?"  
  
Severus nodded. "She did. Always kept one in her bag."  
  
"Me, too, ever since that year in the tent. Malnourishment teaches you to always be prepared. I brought this one from home." Harry contemplated the fruit in his hand. "Convenient, oranges. No special packaging needed, easy to nick from the Great Hall." He removed a wedge and popped it into his mouth. "Taste delicious." He smiled. "I'm glad she liked oranges."  
  
"She had a sweet tooth."  
  
"Did she?"  
  
Severus nodded.  
  
Harry pressed his luck. "What else did she like?"  
  
Severus tilted his head back and closed his eyes, remembering. He answered Harry, and before long found himself being drawn into a reminiscing about Lily Potter with her son.  
  
\------  
  
Someone (likely Granger) had cast a very strong Tergeo on Draco Malfoy's grimy clothing and had folded it neatly. He wrinkled his nose at the idea. He still didn't like Mudbloods. Still thought them inferior, still thought them unworthy, still thought them, well, disgusting. But he no longer wanted to eradicate them, no longer felt compelled to share his feelings on the subject, no longer wanted to spout pureblood propaganda. Just wanted to stay the hell away from them.  
  
He dressed and looked at himself in the mirror for the first time in a long time. With his long hair and thin face, he looked so like his father.  
  
It sickened him.  
  
\--------  
  
Severus had long since cast a Muffliato on himself and Harry, they were laughing so hard.  
  
"Right in her porridge?" Harry asked incredulously as he laughed.  
  
"Yes!" Severus choked out through his laughter. He had forgotten how he and Lily had used to torment Petunia with their magic by conjuring various creatures to crawl out of her breakfast most mornings, then vanished them as soon as Mrs. Evans turned around. Oh the trouble they never got in for it…  
  
The laughter cut off immediately as they saw a young, gaunt Lucius Malfoy look-alike standing before them at the foot of the stairs. Severus stood up, his face the impassionate mask that was so familiar to his former students. Harry stood up next to him, hand wrapping around his wand, as both stared at the blond man.  
  
Finally, Severus jerked his head toward the kitchen, and both Harry and Malfoy followed him inside. He took a seat with his back to the doorway, thus allowing him to block the only exit, and indicated for Malfoy to take a seat across from him.  
  
Harry took a seat next to Severus, crossed his arms, nodded at his former teacher, and stared down Malfoy in his best attempt at a menacing glare, in an excellent impression of Severus.  
  
Severus, who at present was neither glaring nor crossing his arms, rolled his eyes. "For fuck's sake," he muttered.  
  
Draco crossed his arms and glared right back at the two of them. "Well?"  
  
"Calm down, this isn't an inquisition," Severus said, kicking Harry under the table in an effort to make him stop glaring. The man across from them had risked a lot for them tonight. "We owe you a debt of gratitude," he continued. "This could not have been done at all without your help."  
  
The room was silent as Severus waited for Malfoy to name his price.  
  
Malfoy merely shrugged. "I'm glad I was able to get all of them. I'm sorry I wasn't able to do so sooner."  
  
Harry blinked. This didn't sound like the Draco Malfoy he knew from Hogwarts. That Malfoy had always had an ulterior motive for everything he did. Then again, the man sitting next to him was not the Severus Snape he had known from Hogwarts.  
  
Malfoy stared over the tops of their heads as he continued to speak. "Snape, I know that you're waiting for the other shoe to drop here. What I want in exchange and whatnot. There's nothing. I remember those girls from when they were babies, I saw what was happening to them, and for once in my miserable life I did the right thing without being pushed to do it or being too scared to do something otherwise." He turned his gaze to them both and stared straight into Severus's eyes, narrowing his gaze. "Satisfied?" Then a derisive snort. "Of course you're not. Go ahead, take a look. My Occlumency has gone to shite in the last few years."  
  
Ever the Slytherin, Severus would not reject that which was freely offered. He looked. He blinked, then looked again. Blinking rapidly, he removed himself from Malfoy's mind and looked at the young man's face again. _So young…_  
  
Malfoy scowled. "I told you." He stood up. "May I go now?" Without waiting for an answer, he stood up and stalked out of the kitchen.  
  
Severus stood up to block his exit. "Draco…"  
  
"Move."  
  
"Draco…"  
  
"Move!" As he pushed past Severus and through the door, he felt a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"You know how to find your way back here," was all he said. Malfoy stood still for a moment before giving him a minute nod. Without a word, Malfoy walked out the front door and Disapparated.  
  
Severus walked out of the kitchen and over to the floo. "Are you planning to stay tonight?"  
  
"Sorry?"  
  
"I ward the doors and floo every night. I'm making an exception for Longbottom tonight, but that's it. If you wish to go home, now would be the time to do so."  
  
"Is everything alright here?"  
  
Severus looked at the five sleeping girls and thought of the sixteen children and the young woman sleeping in his bed upstairs. "Yes," he breathed out. "Shockingly, unexpectedly, yes. For now."  
  
Harry nodded. "Good." He smiled. "Very good. I'll be back in the morning, then. Good night."  
  
Severus said nothing but warded the floo shut once Harry left. He cast a Patronus to watch over the girls and slowly made his way to his bedroom. Wrapping himself around Hermione, he thought of how he had spent the previous evening. This time last night, he was lying in an empty bed, unsure of whether Hermione would ever be back to fill it. Leopold had been at Hogwarts. The girls were still in that place with no hope of getting them out.  
  
He sighed and curled up closer beside his fiancée, contemplating just how much his life had changed in the last twenty-four hours.  
  
"Wow."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last four and a half chapters all took place over a single twenty-four hour period. Lots of action and life change in that short amount of time. They've earned a rest.
> 
> The Prince's Tale implies that Confundo can confuse, Obliviate, and plant past memories and future ideas. As a Legilimens, I think Severus would be particularly adept at it. And, as stated in the previous chapter, TPT implies that it can be done wandlessly.
> 
> Boggle is a board game in which a player shakes a box full of cubes with letters on them; when the letters fall into place, you try to make as many words out of the letters you see as possible.
> 
> The idea of Hermione and Severus getting married and adopting was foreshadowed all the way back in Chapter Five (Philanthropic Gestures).
> 
> "Where Dwell the Brave at Heart" is part of the Sorting Hat's song about Gryffindor in PS. In this chapter, it refers to everyone at Grimmauld Place.
> 
> Coming Up: The end of our story proper, in which the gang puts their money where their mouths are. To be followed by a rather lengthy Epilogue.


	29. Foolish Wand-Waving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Will they ever…?" Be safe? Be normal? Be healed? Find love? Become independent? Forgive the world? Forgive their parents? 
> 
> Forgive me?

The row was spectacular.  
  
Following a brief but courteous beginning to the proceedings, things had become tense. After an exchange involving the phrases "young man" and "old bint," the gloves were off. Minerva McGonagall and Severus Snape stood toe-to-toe and eye-to-eye in the Headmistress's office at Hogwarts, faces flushed with indignation, shouting at each other and gesticulating furiously.  
  
McGonagall's initial reaction had been to expel Leopold Clairemont for running away, citing the major violation of school rules and a clear lack of seriousness about his education. She also had stated that she did not want to appear to sanction such rule-breaking.  
  
Severus had countered with many, many examples of Gryffindor misbehaviour during his years of teaching, particularly during what he referred to as the "Harry Potter years." He pointed out, without stopping for breath, that chasing after the Philosopher's Stone had resulted in over a hundred points to Gryffindor and loss of the House Cup from Slytherin. He mentioned the foray into the Chamber of Secrets, the theft of from his stores after engineering a potentially lethal accident that sent over half his class to the hospital wing, rushing out to meet a werewolf on the night of a full moon and setting a convicted murderer free, participating in the Tri-Wizard Tournament despite the fact that it reeked of a plot to assassinate Harry Potter, and doing the exact same thing Leopold had done—fly to London on thestral-back without permission or warning, for which they had been rewarded, not punished, and to make matters worse, Hermione and Weasley hadn't even lost their prefect badges for it. Not to mention that years earlier Potter and Weasley had stolen a charmed Muggle vehicle and flown it straight into the Whomping Willow, allowing themselves to be seen by several Muggles. Again, all without punishment, despite his efforts to the contrary.  
  
"And so to stand here and tell me to my face that Mr. Clairemont's behaviour is deserving of expulsion is downright laughable!"  
  
The Headmistress bristled at this, standing up straight and looking into her former colleague's eyes as she informed him that she was not, in fact, Albus Dumbledore, and while he might have been willing to turn a blind eye to the misdeeds of Gryffindors during his tenure (Dumbledore ducked out of his frame as she said this), she was cut from a very different cloth. She assured him that, if anything, the Potter years had taught her the necessity of strict rules and equal treatment, and that failure to run a tight ship had resulted in unnecessary deaths and injuries and paperwork and that without worrying about the return of a megalomaniac or the running of a secret vigilante group, it was far easier to turn one's entire attentions to the running of the school.  
  
"If anything, Severus, I am the first head of Hogwarts who has had the luxury of worrying entirely about the school in the last fifty years, something you did not have, and therefore I will thank you not to tell me how to do my job!"  
  
"Even with the added 'distractions' that my tenure had, I still managed to keep my students under a tight lid and keep them safe from harm!"  
  
"Safe from harm, Severus? Don't make me list all the 'harms' that you apparently claim never happened."  
  
"Everything that happened that year was a damn sight better than what would have happened otherwise!"  
  
"So the ends justify the means, do they?"  
  
"In times of war and stress and trial, yes! Wasn't that dear Albus's motto for so many years? 'For the greater good'? The ends certainly justified the means when he sat behind that desk!"  
  
"We live in a different world now than we did then, Severus."  
  
"All the more reason for you to give this boy a second chance!"  
  
"It's not that simple!"  
  
"Isn't it? Mr. Clairemont's actions were full of daring, nerve, and chivalry to boot—attributes you Gryffindors seem to cherish for whatever ridiculous reason. I'm surprised that you would condemn a member of your own house for embodying all of its traits."  
  
"I cannot condone what he did, and had I been behind that desk when Potter and his friends scarpered off to the Ministry you can bet they would never have set foot in Hogwarts again."  
  
"Don't make me laugh, you awarded them all House points for it!"  
  
"That was different—they had just alerted the world to the return of Voldemort."  
  
"And Mr. Clairemont did what he did to save his sister from a terrible fate, one that she would not have suffered had you not failed to protect her whilst she was your student!"  
  
They stood there, panting, out of breath.  
  
Finally, Severus spoke. "Don't punish him as a proxy for me, Minerva," he said in a low, even voice. "The boy has been punished enough in his life for the misdeeds of others. That stops here."  
  
He took a step back from Minerva and looked out the window at the grounds below, leaning his arm on the side of the window and laying his head on his arm. Despite the fact that this was the only place he had ever felt at home, the memories of that horrible last year were often too painful to think on. It was hard to be back here, especially in this office.  
  
He thought of the words Poppy Pomfrey had told him months earlier.  
  
"Do you remember what Albus used to always say, Minerva?" he asked, not taking his eye from the window. When she didn't respond, he opened his mouth to speak again, only to be cut off by another voice in the room.  
  
"Help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it."  
  
The Headmistress and her predecessor both turned to the source of the voice, but Albus Dumbledore's portrait was apparently fast asleep. He might not have spoken at all. The two turned to each other, steely-eyed and tense, the late Headmaster's words echoing in their minds.  
  
\---------  
  
Severus winced in pain as the grip of the smaller hand in his tightened. His already-pale knuckles turned white as the hand gripped with surprising strength. He didn't particularly want to be in here, but they had insisted that he be there with them whilst they went through this. He had suggested Hermione or, even better, Luna, but they refused. They trusted him, and him alone, to keep them safe.  
  
Even during an invasive medical exam.  
  
For his part, he did the best to respect their privacy by focusing on the wall in front of him and conjuring a sheet to hang over their laps. But his discomfort was dwarfed by their fear, and so he sat.  
  
Poppy tsked as she lowered the sheet over Brigita's legs, completing the exam. With sorrow in her eyes she gave Brigita the news: she would never be able to have children of her own.  
  
The girl received the news with a disturbingly calm, almost resigned, expression. It wrenched at Severus's heart. So young, and she had been denied so much of her future already. _To have this taken away from her too…_  
  
He waited for Brigita to get dressed and then, after telling him he could turn around, offered his arm and escorted her down the stairs. He said nothing. He knew that talking about it eventually would help her, but right now was not the time. There were, sadly, much more immediate problems to be addressed.  
  
Starting this evening, Luna would begin her one-on-one counseling with them. Severus, of course, would be present, and he had insisted Hermione and Harry join in as well. It would be a good idea for them to learn how to counsel others. They were not naturally gifted like Luna; they would have to learn.  
  
After delivering Brigita to her room, he sat on the stairs and put his head in his hands. He had barely kept his head above the water when he was caring for the younger children and visiting the older ones. Now that they were in his custody and it was his responsibility to attempt to heal them, too, to turn them into functioning human beings… he was overwhelmed.  
  
And Severus Snape was not a man easily overwhelmed.  
  
He knew that this was not the end. He still had the older boys to worry about, the three whose whereabouts he knew, that is, but they were in no fit state to move into Grimmauld Place. Lennox Gibbon was still in Azkaban and would be for a couple more months; Xavier Yaxley was a danger to both himself and others; and Reynard Selwyn had been off the grid for months.  
  
He exhaled loudly and massaged his temples. He knew that he had to get a grip. He just had to look at the situation methodically—one step at a time. Deal with the immediate and most easily-addressed problems first, then worry about the others ones. Hardly optimal, but it was the only thing he could do.  
  
It gave him some comfort to know that he would not be doing this alone.  
  
"Are you alright, Severus?" He lifted his head to see Luna perched on the step next to him. He hadn't heard her approach.  
  
 _Your reflexes are dull, Slytherin_ , he thought to himself.  
  
Knowing there was no point in trying to hide the torment in his mind from Luna, he sighed heavily and said, "Will they ever…?" _Be safe? Be normal? Be healed? Find love? Become independent? Forgive the world? Forgive their parents?  
  
Forgive me?_  
  
As if hearing the unspoken half of his statement, Luna nodded. "Maybe, someday, if we do our job right and they let us help them."  
  
He gave a wry smile. "You make it all sound so simple."  
  
"In many ways, it is. There's no 'magic' spell that will fix this, but what we can do is make them remember they are human. We do that by being here for them, making them safe, getting them to talk about it, and above all, making sure that they understand that this is not their fault." Cocking her head to the side at Severus, she added, "Perhaps they're not the only ones who need that reminder."  
  
Severus made no response. He would never admit it, but he liked Luna. She understood him, never pushed him, and never required him to voice his feelings yet managed to always say exactly what he needed to hear.  
  
"Severus, all is not lost with them. It will be a long, difficult road, and we may fail. But we have given them another chance at life, and I know you and I know myself and I know Harry and Hermione and Neville… we will make the most of it. We will hope for the best whilst preparing for the worst. It's all we can do."  
  
"What if…" he let his voice trail off as he regained control of his speech, and when he spoke again, it was in a whisper. "What if it isn't enough?"  
  
"It might not be," Luna conceded. "But we have to try. If it makes the slightest difference for even one of them, won't it be enough?"  
  
Severus nodded.  
  
"Hopefully we'll exceed our goals here."  
  
"I want so much for them," he said softly. "I want them to complete their education, to put their demons to rest, to get married and have families." His face fell at the memory of Brigita Rosier's examination. "They won't be able to have much of that."  
  
"You don't know that yet," Luna said.  
  
"I know enough."  
  
"No one knows the future."  
  
"There are only so many ways that this can turn out."  
  
"Then why bother?"  
  
Severus snapped his head at her, his expression fierce and softening before understanding her meaning.  
  
"Because we have to try," he said.  
  
\-------  
  
After the Easter holidays, Leopold stood at the entrance to the Great Hall, not moving a muscle.  
  
His dorm-mates had heard rumours of his excursion and begged him to talk about it. When he dismissed it all as a lie and said that he'd had to leave to visit an ill family member, they'd buggered off. That was dealt with easily enough. He wasn't popular enough to ride out the inevitable storm, nor was he interesting enough for others to press him for his stories. He was well-liked but also flew under the radar, exactly where he wanted to be.  
  
He'd neither seen nor spoken to Clara since he had gone. He wondered if she'd got in trouble for helping him. He hadn't thought of that at the time. Such a Gryffindor, he could almost hear Snape saying in his head. He really, really hoped she hadn't got in trouble for her actions. If she had, he'd go to McGonagall himself to explain the situation. Snape had been a bit sparse on the details about what the Headmistress did and did not know about his situation, or why he'd left.  
  
They had parted as friends, but the tension had remained, with Clara wanting to know his secret and Leopold absolutely refusing to tell her. It wasn't that he didn't trust her, he did, but his secret was so terrible he knew that she, like everyone else, was likely to abandon him once she knew. He couldn't let that happen. Wouldn't let that happen. He wanted to keep her in his life too much.  
  
He adjusted his tie and took a step inside the Great Hall. The echo of five hundred voices bounced off the walls in an incoherent din of noise. Despite this, he clearly heard a gasp from the Gryffindor table.  
  
Clara stood up and met his eyes. They stood there for a moment, unnoticed by anyone else in the hall, staring at each other. Not wanting to draw attention, he walked toward her calmly, but Clara threw caution to the wind and ran up to him, emitting a squeal as she threw her arms around him. The older Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors around them broke into mocking applause and wolf whistles, but Leopold didn't care.  
  
"I'm so mad at you," Clara whispered, her words echoing those of Snape the night he had saved Brigita.  
  
Smiling to himself, he repeated his own words from that night. "I know."  
  
She took him by the sleeve and tugged him outside. He followed his friend to the Entrance Hall, where she pulled him behind a suit of armour and immediately rounded on him.  
  
"Why didn't you tell me?" she whispered angrily.  
  
"I told you, I had to help my sister, I couldn't tell anyone—"  
  
"Not that! Why didn't you tell me who you really are, Leopold Rosier?"  
  
Leopold blanched. So this was how it would end for him; despite all others had done, all he had done, to protect himself, it had all been for nothing. How had she found out?  
  
"I overheard the Headmistress and Professor Longbottom talking about it," she said, as if reading his mind. "They thought I had already gone back to bed. I went to them after you left, I was worried. I knew I had to tell someone, so that you would be okay."  
  
Leopold ran his hand across his forehead. How could he even begin to explain this? His secret was out, and he was likely to now lose his best and only friend over it.  
  
He'd ruined everything.  
  
"I couldn't," he whispered, finally. If he was going to lose Clara, he was going to lose Clara honestly. "My sister was driven away from Hogwarts because of the family name, and was taken to a horrible place that I had to save her from. If anyone found out, if anyone else finds out, it could get… bad for me."  
  
Clara's piercing blue eyes softened a bit as she seemed to understand the gravity of the situation.  
  
"I couldn't tell anyone, Clara," he said. " _Anyone._ There were times I wanted to tell you, I promise I wanted to tell you. It's not that I didn't trust you, I just couldn't tell anyone." His voice shook a little. "I couldn't let anyone know who I really was. I know you wouldn't have betrayed me, but if somehow it got out and others knew, others who my father hurt or k-killed…" He trailed off and left the rest unsaid. There was no need to say it out loud.  
  
She took his hand in hers, little fingers wrapping around each other.  
  
"I won't tell anyone, Leo," she said with Gryffindor conviction.  
  
"Ever?"  
  
"Ever."  
  
"Promise?"  
  
She nodded and smiled. "I promise." They embraced. Some passing fifth years snickered about Clairemont snogging his girlfriend behind a suit of armour, but he paid it no mind.  
  
And really, snogging Clara was something he could quite see himself enjoying someday.  
  
\--------  
  
"I can't go back there," Brigita whispered to both Severus and Hermione after Leopold had been safely returned to Hogwarts.  
  
Hermione looked at Severus beseechingly. Like him, she had wanted Brigita to return to finish her education, but she understood the risks. Brigita did not have the same protections as Leopold. The school, and Slytherin in particular, would remember her; a name change would not provide her the same cover it had provided Leopold. She might be bullied or abused again. She would be in the same situation she had been in before, and possibly driven out again.  
  
Brigita could go back to Hogwarts. Hermione simply didn't know if she should.  
  
Severus looked from one woman to the other and sighed. He wanted desperately for Brigita to complete her years at Hogwarts, to set herself up for the future. But he had to acknowledge that the potential risks far outweighed the potential benefits. Besides, he couldn't fight them both. He also had a feeling that this sentiment would be repeated five more times with the other girls.  
  
Slowly he nodded. "Very well. We'll figure something out."  
  
His options were severely limited. He couldn't send them abroad for a magical education. They could barely handle being here at Grimmauld Place, so sending them abroad—where they had no support system nearby—might break them completely. There were no other magical schools in Britain. It would be home schooling, then, at least for now.  
  
He supposed there was no real harm in that.  
  
A few days later, he softly knocked on the door to the bedroom that most of the girls shared. They felt safer in numbers so, for now at least, they all shared one room and rarely left it. Luna said they needed time to adjust to the fact that they were no longer slaves. Enclosed spaces, for now, gave them a sense of security. Give them some time, she'd said, and they'd be ready to venture out.  
  
They hadn't really begun to speak yet. Much of their therapy so far had consisted of being exposed to other people, no talking, just the presence of others. Each night Severus would sit with them, along with one of the other adults, simply reading or doing work, not interacting with the girls. The goal was for them to be around others without fear. It was beginning to work, but Severus suspected it would be months or years before they would be able to be around grown men without panicking.  
  
Severus felt it couldn't hurt to give them an option for otherwise occupying their time this early on. They could refuse if they wanted. They'd never been able to refuse anything back there. They could here. It was a new cardinal rule in the house.  
  
He opened the door and found them much as he'd expected: sitting, not really talking or doing anything, just being. "I have to brew some Calming Draughts," he announced to the room at large. "If anyone is interested in learning how, I will be in the cellar. I will be by myself."  
  
Hearing no takers, he simply shut the door and went downstairs. He hadn't expected any of them to agree, not this early. But he felt it was important to show them that they were now members of this household, and that they were not only safe but also welcome to participate in everything that went on in here. They would agree to it eventually, he was certain. They simply needed time. And he was prepared to give them all the time they needed.  
  
He had just begun laying out the jars of ingredients he would need in the order that he needed them when he heard a soft voice behind him ask hesitantly, "Have you started yet?" He turned to see Brigita Rosier standing in the doorway, looking hesitant.  
  
Severus smiled and shook his head. "You're just in time," he said, beckoning her to come over and conjuring a stool for her to perch on. "Have you ever seen this potion made before?" She shook her head. "It's quite a beautiful one. The colours and odors change quite a lot during the process. Yet despite its beauty, it is also rather simple to create." He summoned a pair of safety glasses and dragonscale gloves and handed them to her. "You may help if you want, or just watch. You tell me what you want to do as we go. And you can leave any time you want."  
  
Brigita nodded, and Severus set to work.  
  
\--------  
  
"Harry!" Kingsley Shacklebolt looked up from his mountain of paperwork with a smile on his face. "What a pleasant surprise!"  
  
"Kingsley," Harry said with a smile as he proffered his hand. "I'm here to follow up on our last conversation?"  
  
"Last conversation?"  
  
"The social services foundation for war orphans. I believe we left that discussion unfinished."  
  
Kingsley's smile faded as he sat back in his chair. "I thought you thought better of me, Harry," he said, sounding disappointed. "I would do it if I could, but like I said, there are forces within this institution that would prevent it from happening."  
  
"I believe you," Harry said. "I know you wouldn't stop this just for the hell of it. I'm actually here to get some advice from you. Political advice."  
  
Kingsley straightened up. "You want to run for office?"  
  
Harry laughed. "Don't be daft, I'm not after your job. I'd be pants at it. But you say that there are too many important people in the Ministry who would act against this, actively fight it. I want to know how to persuade them to change their minds."  
  
"How do you mean?"  
  
"Any means necessary. _Legitimate_ means necessary, I should say. Public opinion, endorsements, negotiations, striking bargains, whatever. I don't have much political sense or experience, but you do. This is important to me, and I want to make it happen."  
  
"What about Severus?"  
  
"He's got his hands a bit full at the moment. Besides," he added, "this is my cause, not his. He has what he wants, and now I want to pursue what I want."  
  
"You mean you're not still helping him with his… project?"  
  
"Oh, I am, and I won't leave it. But I want this, too. And as they get older, the need for social services will increase, and if I want something waiting for them when they get older and out on their own, I think it's best if I start now, don't you?"  
  
Kingsley sat for a moment, looking thoughtful. "You do realise, of course, that this is not a fast or easy process? That it may take years? That even if you do everything right, it may never happen at all? You are prepared to put your reputation and influence and popularity on the line for something that may blow up in your face? To have those who oppose you seek to drag your good name through the mud to prevent it from happening?" Kingsley gave him an intense look. "This is not for the faint of heart, son. It destroys most people who attempt it."  
  
Harry nodded. "It's nothing I haven't been through before. I've got three arrows in my quiver: influence, popularity, and time. Please tell me I can do something with them."  
  
"All right," Kingsley said. "If you're truly committed to this—and I will tell you, you have to be committed to your beliefs in order to survive in the pit of vipers that is politics—then I will help you. It will take time, and it may not work, and you will undoubtedly make a few enemies, but I have a few ideas…"  
  
\--------  
  
"Where are you taking me?"  
  
"Ah, that's the question, isn't it?" Harry replied mysteriously.  
  
"You two are absolutely ridiculous!" Hermione chastised as Harry and Ron each took a place beside her, linking their arms through hers, and leading her out of her bedroom in the simple Muggle skirt and blouse she had worn teaching earlier that day.  
  
"Oi! I took the day off for this, Hermione," Ron protested. "I'm not doing this for my health."  
  
"Doing what?"  
  
"This."  
  
"Why are you doing this?" Whatever "this" was.  
  
"For you, of course."  
  
"If we'd waited for you to ask, you'd have no one," Harry said.  
  
"Ask for what?"  
  
"For us to escort you."  
  
"Escort me where?"  
  
"Downstairs," Ron said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.  
  
"I don't understand."  
  
Ron looked over Hermione's head to meet Harry's eye. "For once, she's slower on the uptake than me. Quick, call the _Prophet_."  
  
"Nobody would believe you, mate," Harry said.  
  
"True."  
  
"It's only fair that you tell me what's going on. You two are enjoying my ignorance far too much," Hermione grumbled.  
  
"Rare, that. We have to enjoy it while we can. Who knows when we'll get another opportunity," Ron pointed out.  
  
"And I have a feeling we'll never be doing this again," Harry said. "So we'd better make it count." With his free hand, his wand hand, he conjured a bouquet of simple white flowers and handed them to Hermione, who took them with the arm linked through Ron's.  
  
She looked down at the flowers in her hand, and then at each of her friends in turn. Each man gave a knowing nod. Not knowing what to say, Hermione just swallowed and nodded.  
  
"You ready?" Harry asked sofly. "To go downstairs?"  
  
Hermione nodded again. "Very much."  
  
They made their way down the stairs arm-in-arm.  
  
"We lied to you a bit, Hermione," Ron said. "We're not escorting you."  
  
At her quizzical look, Harry spoke. "We're giving you away."  
  
"No bloke marries you without our say-so," Ron explained.  
  
"He knows that if he cocks this up he answers to us," Harry said.  
  
Hermione snorted. "I think you need a better threat than that."  
  
"I don't think we do," Harry said. "I don't think he needs one to keep in line."  
  
A sudden thought hit Hermione and she stopped in her tracks. "Oh, God, Percy isn't here, is he?"  
  
Ron and Harry exchanged glances. "Well, um, yes…" Ron said.  
  
"But," Harry said, "He hasn't been told the location."  
  
"George blindfolded him and brought him through the floo from Harry and Ginny's place."  
  
"And Ginny threw a tongue-tying curse on him that will activate if he ever tries to reveal where we are."  
  
"Or what we're doing."  
  
"And knows I will go to Molly and the _Prophet_ and Wizengamot—in that order—if he even thinks about saying a word on the subject to anyone."  
  
Hermione nodded. "Right. Suppose that's the best we can do." She looked at them both. "I'm impressed with both of you."  
  
Reaching the ground floor, they entered the sitting room. Percy stood before the hearth, casting sideway glances at Severus, who had only eyes for Hermione. Like Hermione, Severus wore the same clothing he had worn earlier that day: a white untucked oxford shirt under a dark blue jumper with black trousers. His short hair still framed his face the way it always did. And yet he somehow looked more beautiful to Hermione than he ever had before. His face, per usual, was devoid of much expression, but his eyes sparkled and betrayed a warmth that few others had ever witnessed in him.  
  
Luna and Neville sat on the sofa nearest them, hands clasped, with Ginny next to them, heavily pregnant with James wriggling in her arms. George sat on the end, looking uncomfortable but smiling all the same. Fourteen children and six teenaged girls sat scattered throughout the room.  
  
Harry and Ron led her down a winding, makeshift aisle, depositing her at Severus's side.  
  
Percy cleared his throat. "Who gives this woman?" he asked imperiously.  
  
Hermione indicated her two friends. "They do."  
  
"And we do," Harry said meaningfully, glancing at Severus and giving him a small smile.  
  
"Completely," Ron said, also giving Severus a smile and meaningful look.  
  
Percy nodded, and Hermione was released from her friends' arms to take that of her intended.  
  
"Why didn't you say anything?" she asked him softly.  
  
"Even I know the value of a romantic gesture," he replied.  
  
In reality, he had, once again, followed Harry Potter's unsolicited advice.  
  
 _"Hermione is planning to marry you quickly, and is perfectly happy to do it without the bells and whistles, but that doesn't mean you can't make it special for her."  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"I mean she deserves to be swept off her feet in some way."  
  
Severus gaped. "Swept off her feet?"  
  
Was that fear in his voice? Harry bit back a laugh.  
  
"It doesn't have to be anything big, just… surprise her. Spring a wedding on her one afternoon, with everyone who's in on this present. It'll mean a lot to her."  
  
"I thought you said she didn't like surprises," Severus had said suspiciously.  
  
Harry had smirked. "She's a woman, and it's her wedding. She'll be too gobsmacked to be upset with you."_  
  
Thinking on the conversation as his bride stood before him in her rumpled skirt and blouse with an ink spot on the sleeve, he again wondered if he had done the right thing. "I hope you aren't upset with me," he whispered, plucking from her hair a quill she had tucked in it. It had been holding her hair in place, and now it fell wild and untamed about her shoulders. Just the way he liked it.  
  
She shook her head and squeezed his arm. "Not in the least."  
  
"You'll still have me?"  
  
She nodded. "Always."  
  
He smiled and slipped a small, silver ring with a light blue stone on her wedding ring finger. It was simple. It was tarnished. It had been Eileen's. It was perfect.  
  
"But I don't have one for you," she said sadly.  
  
Severus smirked and gestured for her to take out her wand. Holding it with her as he had on Christmas when they cast her Patronus together, he traced her wand around his own ring finger. A small, golden band appeared, tattooed to his skin. At his intended's surprised look, he met her eyes and said simply, "I take the commitment seriously."  
  
This was one magical tattoo he would not live to regret.  
  
Smiling and squeezing his hand, they turned to face Percy Weasley, and were married. Once Percy pronounced them man and wife, they gestured for the six girls to come to them. At this point, Percy would recite the incantation with each girl in turn that would complete the adoption process, making these six girls their daughters by law.  
  
Each girl had chosen a new surname for herself. "Snape" and "Granger" might draw attention, since the Wizarding world was a small one. Brigita, like her brother, had chosen the surname Clairemont.  
  
"It is highly irregular for the children to take different surnames from the adoptive pare-"  
  
Percy's lofty tone was cut off at the sound of George cracking his knuckles and giving him a pointed, angry look. Ron and Ginny matched him in their intensity. Harry slowly raised his eyebrows.  
  
"R-right," Percy stuttered, clearly shaken by the unspoken threat from his sister, brother-in-law, and brothers. He continued.  
  
He and Hermione stood facing each other, hand-in-hand, and vowed to accept each girl into their new family and treat her as their own. A gold flame from Percy's wand encircled their wrists, danced around as he waved it in a complex movement, then disappeared. Then, as each girl approached in turn, three stood in a circle, holding hands, as Percy traced his wand over their clasped hands. Another gold flame danced from Percy's wand, encircling each pair of hands where they joined. They repeated the process with each girl in turn, the incantation strengthening the bond between Severus and Hermione with the addition of each new daughter into their family.  
  
Thirty minutes after Hermione had arrived downstairs, they were a family of eight, with another fifteen honorary family members. A household and family of twenty-three.  
  
 _A family._ It took every ounce of Severus's control to avoid showing the emotions that were coursing through his body.  
  
He looked at the witnesses. The old Severus might have been agitated by the presence of Hermione's annoying friends, but instead he saw them the way she did: her brothers. He knew that she was his, would always be his. He would spend the rest of his life making sure she knew how much that meant to him. Harry gave him a smile. For so many years of his life, Severus Snape had wanted a family of his own with Lily Evans. Now, in a twisted way, he sort of did have a family with her, albeit in a very different way than what he had imagined. Lily's son was Hermione's brother, which now made him Severus's brother. Despite a rocky start and many years of bad blood, they had found a common ground with each other. Harry had proven himself a good friend and a good man. They would forever be in each other's lives. Severus found that was not such an unpalatable proposition.  
  
He liked to think that Lily would be proud of him.  
  
The girls were safe now; they were his now. They had been his responsibility, his failure for many years, but now they belonged to him in every sense of the word. He was, despite everything, a father in the eyes of the law, in the eyes of the girls, and in the eyes of Hermione. The others were his charges, and they had been as much hers as his. Together they would see them all through Hogwarts. They would help them, counsel them, and be there for them when things got difficult. They would provide them a home to return to if Hogwarts failed them as they had the others.  
  
He would do this right. He would find the others who had run away and disappeared. He would bring the others under his protection somehow. He would fix that at which he had failed. He would atone for his sins. He would do it all, somehow. And he would never do it alone again.  
  
 _Never_ again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lengthy Epilogue is coming up next, so if you didn't see something (or someone) here whose story hasn't been wrapped up, don't panic.


	30. Epilogue: Ever After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He would never stop pursuing perfection, but he would no longer be disappointed with less. He had learnt to reward best efforts, rather than focus his attention on the imperfections. They had come so far. How could he possibly be disappointed?

  
_"It is one of the most beautiful compensations of life that no man can sincerely try to help another without helping himself."_

**Ralph Waldo Emerson**   


  
  
\----  
  
Ron Weasley sat in the corner booth at the Leaky Cauldron, gobbling down every last bit of his shepherd's pie. It was the best food he'd had since his mother's, but she hadn't cooked properly in years. The Leaky must have a new cook, or maybe even new ownership. Until recently the food had been rubbish-cold, late, and with a terrible, unnatural texture. Tom was getting on in years, and it was beginning to show.  
  
"You look like you enjoyed yourself."  
  
Ron looked up at the source of the voice and smiled.  
  
"Hannah! You all right?"  
  
"I am. You?"  
  
"Very much. Have you tried the food here lately? It's brilliant."  
  
"Thank you. I aim to please."  
  
Ron gave her a confused look. "Are you the new cook here?"  
  
She shook her head. "New owner. Tom was looking to retire. I had to sack the old cook. Old goat had only one good eye. A cook with no depth perception? Merlin. Messes everywhere, key ingredients missing from recipes, cuts all wrong..."  
  
"Well, whoever you did hire, this is brilliant. And you know, I thought it looked cleaner in here than it had in years. Guess Tom was starting to let the place go, wasn't he?"  
  
"You have no idea."  
  
Ron smiled. "So… business has been all right?"  
  
Hannah shrugged. "Not bad. Could always be better, I'm sure. People were starting to go to other places when Tom started to go barmy. I need to win them back." She smiled at him. "Do you plan to come back often?"  
  
"With food like this, absolutely. I live above my shop just 'round the corner. The big red one with all the bangs and fireworks going off at all hours."  
  
"Well," Hannah said smiling, "now that we're neighbours, maybe I'll see you around."  
  
He blushed. "Maybe you will."  
  
Ron came back the next day for lunch. And dinner.  
  
And the day after that.  
  
And the day after that.  
  
\------  
  
Harry arrived at Grimmauld Place with a small bundle in his arms. Severus happened to be in the ground floor sitting room alone when he flooed in. He looked up in surprise. Harry had taken a few weeks' leave to be with his wife, who had given birth to their second child only days earlier. He hadn't expected to see him back until the following month.  
  
"Be warned that if you do insist on coming in, I will not hesitate to put you to work."  
  
Harry took the remark for the greeting it was and walked over to Severus, turning the bundle in his arms so that he could see inside. "Introductions are in order, I think. Severus, I'd like you to meet Albus Severus."  
  
Severus's eyes widened for a fraction of a second before he hardened his expression. "I thought we discussed this."  
  
"We did. Per usual, I decided to do the opposite of what you told me to do. Don't tell me that you're surprised."  
  
Severus sighed. "I suppose I'm not, though why you felt the need to saddle the boy with such a ridiculous name, I'm sure I don't know."  
  
"Well, James is named in part for my godfather. I think that, had things turned out a bit differently, I might have had a second one, so it's only appropriate that my second son bear that name as well."  
  
Severus knew that, had things worked out a bit differently, he would have likely been father, not godfather, to Lily's children. But Harry didn't need to know that.  
  
"And what makes you think that it is so appropriate?"  
  
At that moment, as if on command, little Albus opened his eyes. Severus was taken aback to see Lily's (and Harry's) green eyes in the tiny baby's face. Lily's grandson. Lily's son.  
  
"It just felt right."  
  
Severus and his namesake locked eyes for a long time before Severus whispered, "So I see."  
  
"I think he likes you," Harry said.  
  
"Don't be absurd. No one likes me."  
  
"You'll be godfather, won't you?"  
  
Severus stiffened and looked at Harry's earnest face.  
  
"I'm hardly the kind of person to be anyone's godfather."  
  
"Don't be ridiculous. You're the best person—the only person—who should be his godfather."  
  
"I can't imagine your wife being in agreement on the matter."  
  
"Believe it. It was her idea, actually."  
  
Severus sighed. "I will do it only on condition that you not do anything stupid to put yourself in harm's way. The last thing I need is responsibility for another orphan whose parents made idiotic choices."  
  
"Done."  
  
"Do I have to hold him?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Good."  
  
\--------  
  
Lennox Gibbon was released from Azkaban.  
  
And promptly thrown back in.  
  
And released.  
  
And thrown back in.  
  
The cycle would repeat itself for the rest of his life.  
  
He just couldn't stay out of trouble. He had impulse control and anger issues. He let his wand do his thinking for him. The Wizengamot became less and less sympathetic to him as his crimes grew more and more dire. Muggles were often involved, which carried a stiffer penalty than if the crime had been committed against a wizard.  
  
He made terrible choices. He ran with a bad crowd. He would not stay at Grimmauld, and since he was now legally an adult Severus could do nothing to make him stay. He could only try to convince him that it was best for him.  
  
He never successfully made his case.  
  
There was nothing Severus could do. Nothing Luna could do. Nothing Hermione could do. Nothing Harry could do. And they had all tried.  
  
"Sometimes it's just not meant to be," Harry reminded him.  
  
\----------  
  
Hermione smirked and handed her husband the letter. He scanned it and looked at her, his eyes glittering in amusement. "I'm beginning to think that you're a terrible influence."  
  
"Only beginning?"  
  
"I decided to give you the benefit of the doubt."  
  
"Clearly that was a mistake."  
  
"Clearly."  
  
"Another Gryffindor."  
  
"I admit I did not see this one coming," Severus said.  
  
"I did."  
  
"Oh you did, did you?"  
  
Hermione nodded. "Ermengarde wanted to be with her brother more than anything else in the world. I wouldn't be surprised if she begged the hat to put her in Gryffindor. Besides, you know that Houses typically run in families. As soon as the Hat heard 'Clairemont' it probably presumed he was going to have another Gryffindor and acted accordingly."  
  
Severus shook his head. "The Hat knows exactly who they are. Slytherins don't beg. That must have been what did it."  
  
"Regardless, there's nothing wrong with variety."  
  
"Variety," Severus mocked. "Right. Prior to you and your friends careening into our lives, I had a perfect track record of Slytherins. Now, I have two Gryffindors, one Hufflepuff, and one Ravenclaw."  
  
"Slytherin didn't exactly do the others much good," Hermione pointed out.  
  
Severus looked toward the door to the kitchen, where he knew the older girls were sitting and reading on the other side, with a thoughtful expression on his face. "No," he said softly. "It didn't."  
  
Hermione took his hand and squeezed it.  
  
"That never would have happened if I were still Head of House," Severus said.  
  
"I know." Hermione gave him a small smile. "You know Neville will watch over her, same as he always has with Leo and the others."  
  
Severus gave a snort. "I prefer not to pin all my hopes on him."  
  
"You could stand to be nice to him, you know, he's been nothing but good to you since this whole thing began."  
  
"I could. But I won't."  
  
"Why not?" She let go of his hand and ran it through her hair. "This is really getting ridiculous. He wants so badly to be your friend. He's done everything you've asked of him. Why are you so horrible to him in spite of everything he's done for you?"  
  
He sighed. "Have you ever heard the story of the scorpion and the frog?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Muggle fable. A scorpion needed to cross a river, but couldn't swim. So he asked a frog to ferry him across. The frog said, 'Absolutely not. You're going to sting me, and then I'll die and you'll drown.' The scorpion assured him he would do no such thing because, by doing so, he would die, so he had every incentive to not sting him, as scorpions are want to do for no reason. The frog agreed to carry him across. Halfway, over the deepest part of the river, the scorpion stung the frog, and as a result the frog became paralyzed and began to sink under the water. 'What are you doing?' asked the frog. 'Now I'm going to die and you're going to drown. All you had to do was not sting me. Why on earth would you do this?' And the scorpion simply replied, 'It's in my nature.'"  
  
Hermione furrowed her eyebrows. "I don't know what moral a fable like that is supposed to teach, but how does that apply here?"  
  
"You asked me why I'm unpleasant to Longbottom, despite the fact that he has been helpful, done everything I asked, and unwisely attempts to befriend me."  
  
"I did."  
  
"It's in my nature."  
  
\--------  
  
Ginny and Ron each held Molly's hands as Harry and Hannah looked on. Luna's dreamy voice lulled her into a calm, trance-like state.  
  
"I can't make any promises," Luna had told her. "But we can try."  
  
Molly had nodded slowly, sadly, as if she couldn't really see Luna right in front of her. "I have nothing left to lose," she croaked in a voice so unlike her own.  
  
Luna led Molly down a path of memories, of fears, of regrets, speaking slowly and gently, keeping Molly sedate and calm at all times with nothing more than the timbre of her voice. She had learnt how to infuse her voice with magic from Severus—he had been able to keep entire classes of students silent and attentive with the mere sound and cadence of his speech, and now Luna could keep a person calm and relaxed in much the same way. Molly's eyes fell shut and her breathing became even as she narrated her journey, her voice becoming strangled as she re-lived the past.  
  
Such treatment required many sessions, and even if done correctly, success was not guaranteed. But it was worth a try. The Weasley family had lost its heart, and it needed her back.  
  
When Molly awoke, she was sobbing and clutching her children's hands so tightly that her knuckles were white. It would take many, many more sessions to bring Molly back to the person she had once been. She may never get there.  
  
But it was a start.  
  
\---------  
  
Harry and Severus held the boy down. "Xavier," Harry said softly. "We are here to help you. Relax for me, if you can."  
  
The the boy continued to alternate between struggling and convulsing as he fought against unseen tormentors, the tremors in his limbs making it almost impossible to hold him down on the hotel bed.  
  
"Use your head, Potter, put him in a body bind."  
  
Harry shook his head. "Not for this. It makes it worse. Same with pain potions, stunning, and Incarcerous. Brute strength and dumb luck are our only weapons against this."  
  
Severus looked at Harry with a newfound respect. He didn't know that his problem had been so bad that it had required this level of intervention.  
  
"I'm so sorry, Xavier," Harry said ruefully. "When this is over, you'll have this poison out of your system, and then we can bring you home to be with your sister Zenobia, and your life will really begin. But I'm warning you: the next forty-eight hours will be the worst of your entire life."  
  
Xavier nodded, convulsed again, and then passed out.  
  
"That is, assuming he survives it," Harry murmured once he was certain Xavier was unconscious.  
  
"You don't expect him to?"  
  
Harry shrugged. "Not only has he completely polluted his body, there's some sort of curse attached to it that makes the drugs more potent and more difficult to remove from his system altogether, triggering his regular relapses. It will be painful," he looked at Severus, "for all of us."  
  
Harry was not exaggerating. As Yaxley expelled the poison from his body and suffered through the crippling pain of withdrawal, he convulsed and seized and released magic in uncontrolled outbursts. Not even Unbreakable charms on the windows and furniture could completely protect everything from the onslaught.  
  
When Xavier Yaxley finally opened his eyes two days later, he was covered head-to-toe in bruises and had lacerations all over his body. He was exhausted and sore and confused and mentally and physically and magically drained.  
  
He'd never felt better in his life.  
  
\-------  
  
Hermione set down the _Prophet_ and gave Severus a meaningful look. At his quizzical expression, she pushed the paper toward him so he could read the headline on the broadsheet.  
  


**MINISTER ANNOUNCES JOBS PROGRAMME**

**Priority to be given to war orphans, Muggle-borns who lost magic**

  
  
Severus's eyebrows crept up to his hairline as he snatched up the paper and read the article.  
  
According to the article, the Minister for Magic had got the department heads to agree to hire wizards and witches in low-level positions as a means of boosting morale, providing employment, re-integrating the community, and invigorating the Wizarding economy. The article went on to explain that those who had been orphaned in the war would be given positions without regard to OWL or NEWT scores. Eventually, classes would be added so that participants would be able to obtain their OWLs or NEWTs through independent study, thus qualifying them for higher-paid positions.  
  
The article went on to say that the initiative would be administered by none other than Harry Potter, who had proposed it to the Minister. Potter, after years of sabbatical for "family reasons", would be its director and chairman.  
  
It would be known as the Potter Foundation.  
  
Severus looked up at his wife and smiled, really smiled. They both knew how much arguing, cajoling, pleading, political maneuvering, and even threats it had taken for Harry to make this a reality. He had never given up or been discouraged by a lack of support. It had taken three and a half years of work behind the scenes to make this happen. And very little of it had been pretty.  
  
It had been worth it.  
  
They would have a chance at a future, all of them.  
  
\---------  
  
"I can't believe it's all over."  
  
Luna Lovegood stood before the floo at Grimmauld Place, her home for the past five years.  
  
"It has been… interesting," Severus said, eyes on the floor. He wasn't sure what to say to Luna, but he knew that, when it came to her, no words needed to be spoken between them. She knew.  
  
"I won't get emotional," she said. "I know you hate it and it'll only make you uncomfortable, and when you're uncomfortable you get frustrated, and when you get frustrated you get snappish and what good would that be to anyone?"  
  
"It's not like you'll never see any of us again," Severus pointed out. "In fact, you'll be seeing them more frequently than I will, at least during term time." He tried not to let the jealousy show in his voice. Not that he could hide anything from her.  
  
"I know, but it just won't be the same, will it? It's the end of an era."  
  
He nodded thoughtfully. "That it is. And what an experience that has been for all of us."  
  
"You know, this is the last thing in the world I thought I would do. I assumed I'd marry some bloke as loony as I am and travel the world searching for the mythical creatures my deranged father was always on about. Instead, I discovered demons, and rather than studying and searching for them, I did my best to destroy them."  
  
She smiled sadly. "I would have thought I would be happy for this day, the day you wouldn't need me here full-time anymore. The day that we would agree they no longer needed so much intervention." She sighed. "I guess it's true what they say-be careful what you wish for."  
  
"They still need you, Lovegood," Severus pointed out. "Which is why we are standing here having this conversation."  
  
She nodded. "It feels so empty in here now."  
  
"Very quiet."  
  
"Too quiet for my liking."  
  
"Then you've made the right decision."  
  
"It's just… it's all going to change now, isn't it?"  
  
"Life is change, Lovegood. And not much is changing. Not for you."  
  
"I know that, on the surface, it isn't so much. I'm still their counselor, I'll just be doing it at Hogwarts, not here, and I'll be doing it for all students, not just them, and I'll be doing it officially as a member of staff, rather than under the table. And I'll be back here every summer and school holiday. But… we had quite the nice little home here, all of us together under one roof year-round. Us against the world, hoping to save a few lives."  
  
"You make it all sound so _romantic_ ," he drawled, trying his best to sound sarcastic and annoyed at her reminiscing.  
  
Luna shook her head and gazed at him in that thoughtful way that had always unnerved him so. "Not romantic. Only beautiful."  
  
Severus cleared his throat. "You'll be late if you leave it much longer."  
  
Luna shook her head. "No, I won't, but I know you want me to leave before you get emotional. You're having a hard time controlling it as it is. I don't want you to feel more uncomfortable than you are already."  
  
She stepped toward him and, without warning, wrapped her arms around him in a hug. "Thank you for everything, Severus," she said in a choked voice. "It's been a privilege."  
  
Every instinct in Severus's body screamed at him to pull away from her embrace, but he found that he just couldn't muster the will to do so. Hesitantly, slowly, he wapped his arms around her as well.  
  
"The privilege was all mine," he whispered, the words full of a deeper meaning than themselves. He knew she would understand. She always understood. Always understood him. In many ways, she understood him far better than anyone, even Hermione. They were not so very different from one another.  
  
He stood staring at the floo long after she'd left, not moving a muscle until he felt a soft arm wrapping him around the waist and a bushy head of hair tickling his neck.  
  
"I guess it's just us now, isn't it?" Hermione whispered.  
  
Severus snaked his arm around his wife's shoulders and kissed her temple. "Just us now."  
  
"Until June, that is."  
  
Severus smiled at the thought of a full, noisy house. "I can't wait," he admitted.  
  
Hermione squeezed him. "Neither can I."  
  
\----------  
  
Draco Malfoy never returned to Grimmauld Place. He couldn't face them all again. Even though they welcomed him, he knew it was only grudgingly, and he could not live with that. Not anymore.  
  
It was with great reluctance that he succumbed to his own basic survival needs and enrolled in the Minister's jobs programme. It was difficult. Everyone knew him—who he was, what he had (and hadn't) done during the war. The jeers and dirty looks he could live with. It was the indifference from others that was often most crushing. Draco hated feeling invisible. Even as a street rat, he preferred being kicked and yelled at to having others seem to stare right through him, like he didn't even exist.  
  
He knew that they wanted to refuse him. Unfortunately for them, the Minister had issued a "no rejection" policy. A slot could, and would, be found for every eligible applicant. To the chagrin of everyone, Draco qualified.  
  
They parked him in the most out-of-the-way desk in the darkest corner of the least important department in the Ministry. Draco's job was to assemble papers in the proper order, bind them, and drop them in a slot to be distributed throughout the Ministry. It was dull and too easy. But it was a living. For the first time in his life, Draco was supporting himself.  
  
He looked up at the sound of a gasp from the sandwich girl. Their eyes met for the first time since that horrible night in Knockturn Alley.  
  
"Draco," she whispered.  
  
"Brigita."  
  
"I, um, I didn't know that you were working here," she said, placing a sandwich on his desk.  
  
"First day," he muttered.  
  
An awkward silence passed before Brigita spoke again. "Are you enjoying it?" He gave her a look that conveyed just how much he was enjoying his new job.  
  
"Well," Brigita said, "it may not be much, but it's at least preferable to the alternative. I know I'd rather fetch lunch for men than… well, I prefer it. You get used to it after awhile."  
  
Draco shrugged. What choice did he have but to get used to this life?  
  
"I, um, I never got a chance to thank you," she whispered. "I wasn't able to speak about it back then, too… too difficult. Too painful. Too fresh. But, that was a long time ago now, and… well, you saved my life, Draco."  
  
He shook his head, eyes downcast.  
  
"Yes, you did," Brigita insisted. "Because of you, I got a chance to live a real life. No more of… that. Because of you I found my family again, got the help I needed, got parents-real parents-for the first time since I was a little girl. I don't want to think of what might have happened had you not done what you did."  
  
Draco shook his head again and returned to his paperwork.  
  
"Everyone back at the house always wondered what happened to you," she said after another long, awkward pause. "Us girls especially. The ones you saved. We didn't talk about it in front of the little ones; no need for them to know where we were and what we'd been forced to… do. Um, I don't live there anymore. I got a little place with the other girls. Hermione and Severus, they would have let us stay, told us to stay, begged us to stay, but we wanted to give this a go. See if we'd really become the adults they worked so hard to turn us into. They say they're very proud of us.  
  
"This foundation allows us all to get our OWLs and NEWTs. Hermione and Severus have been helping us prepare for them. She drew up these very handy colour-coded timetables for us, and they really do work! Severus is teaching us to brew all these potions, and Hermione is helping us with our Charms. Both of them help with Transfiguration—they try to outdo one another, it's quite adorable, really—and Severus of course is teaching us every defensive hex, jinx, curse, and counter-curse in the book. He never, ever wants us to be powerless and helpless again. And Neville teaches us about plants and herbs. I think I'll be able to sit my OWLs in a few months in those subjects; those are the only ones I really care about. And then I hope I can get a better job, though this one works just fine for now.  
  
"You know the old saying- 'living well is the best revenge.' Living as independent adults is the best way to show all of them that they couldn't destroy us, no matter how they tried. I have you and Severus and Hermione to thank for that. I can live well because of everything you did for me. We all can. I know they want to protect us from everything, but they won't always be able to do so. We learned that the hard way very early on. I know they're proud, even if they think we ought to have stayed home. We go home for dinner quite often. I'll tell them I saw you and that you looked fit. Or not, if you'd rather I not say anything."  
  
She cleared her throat. "I'm sorry, I tend to natter nonstop sometimes. I have Luna to thank for that—she encouraged us to talk about this as much as possible. I find that the more I talk about it, the less it hurts. It's almost like talking physically puts distance between the past and the present, and I can use as much distance as I can get.  
  
"I spent so many years not speaking that I suppose I'm trying to make up for lost time. So when I see a familiar face, I can't help but open my stupid mouth and speak until they either walk away or I run out of things to say."  
  
She averted her gaze. "Sometimes it takes a long time for me to run out of things to say. I suppose with you there's a lot I've wanted to say, things I've wanted to say for so many years, ever since... that night. And after all that you've done for me I suppose the kindest thing I could do for you is spare you and get on my way. I'm glad to see you're doing well, Draco. When you never came back, I worried about you. I thought of you often."  
  
With a shy nod, she turned to leave. "Brigita," he called after her. She turned eagerly and faced him. He held the sandwich out to her. He didn't have a Knut to his name. "I can't—I don't—I haven't much of an appetite today."  
  
She shook her head and pushed it back to him. "It's on me," she said. "As is the one I'll bring you tomorrow, and the one I'll bring you the day after that, and on and on until I've repaid you. Free lunch is the least I can do; I owe you so much more. But this is a start. I'll think of something better later."  
  
He looked at the sandwich and back to her, giving her a minute nod in thanks.  
  
"I walk through every day at lunch and again at tea," she said. "Just in case you want to plan to be elsewhere when I make my rounds. Spare your ears and all that. Your sandwich will always be waiting for you when you return. I'll make sure of it. One less thing in your life to worry about." With one last smile, Brigita turned and walked away from his desk to continue her rounds. She was doing house-elf work. Draco watched as other employees handed over their Sickles in exchange for sandwiches without even looking her in the eye, or acknowledging her in any other way. Their eyes were on the sandwiches, not the girl. She was invisible to them, just like he was invisible to them.  
  
He made sure to be at his desk every day when she came by. He would notice her. And he would speak to her. And he would help her remember that she was a person to be acknowledged, not one to be forgotten or ignored.  
  
\---------  
  
When he first came to Grimmauld Place, Severus had lost fifteen of his charges after they left Hogwarts. He had known the whereabouts of nine of them. Six had been lost. He eventually found three of them. It was not always a happy event when he did so.  
  
The worst had been reading of Reynard Selwyn's death in the Prophet one morning. It was a small article about the body of a young teenaged male found in Knockturn Alley, killed in a street fight.  
  
Reynard had come to Grimmauld Place briefly before running off. Severus warded all doors and windows shut, but that only worked to keep the world out. It did nothing to stop one of them from walking out the front door and disappearing. It had been meant as a protective measure-to make sure they could escape should an unsavoury person make his way into the house. They could make their escape.  
  
He wondered if it had been the right call. Hermione said it was, but Severus still questioned his judgment. He couldn't help it. He could learn to accept something less than perfection, but he would never be comfortable with failure. Especially when the stakes were so high.  
  
In front of Hermione, he hardened his expression and blocked all emotion.  
  
In private, he wept.  
  
He always knew, intellectually, that he could not expect to save all of them. He could not make their decisions for them. All he could do was give them his best and hope it would be enough.  
  
Sometimes, it just wasn't enough.  
  
"Sometimes it's just not meant to be," Harry would remind him.  
  
He knew Harry was right. But knowing that didn't make it any easier.  
  
\----------  
  
Severus approached the floo and walked through to the flat his six daughters shared. He did so every night. He checked the protective enchantments on all windows and doors, he warded the floo, he inspected all the owls that had arrived, he spoke with each girl. He gave each one a hug and asked after her day at the Ministry. He told each one that he was proud of her.  
  
Tonight his hugs were longer, his embraces tighter, his voice lower. After speaking with Valentina, he stiffened as he realised what was missing.  
  
"Where's Brigita?" he asked, tensing. He came at the same time every day, and they all knew that he expected them all to be there. He would worry otherwise.  
  
The girls all shared surreptitious glances and stood a bit straighter. "Out," they all said in unison.  
  
"Out?" Severus repeated, curiosity piqued. Something was up.  
  
"Yes," Valentina said a little too suspiciously, her eyes shifting. "Out."  
  
"Out where?"  
  
"Nowhere important!" Valentina said quickly. "What's that you've brought with you?"  
  
"Biscuits Mum sent, and don't try changing the subject on me, you know it won't work. What are you all hiding from me?"  
  
They were "Severus and Hermione" when others were around, but in private, they were, and had been, "Mum and Dad" or "Mum and Daddy" for years. It was a secret born of the need to protect their true identities, both of the girls and their parents. Their little secret.  
  
"Nothing!" they all said too quickly, stifling smiles and giggles.  
  
Severus crossed his arms and gave them his most intimidating Professor Snape glare. Unfortunately for him, they were all so used to the look that it no longer had the same potency that it once did with his students. Still, he would get to the bottom of this. Did his girls really think they could fool him?  
  
He heard the sound of the front door unlocking and was incensed. Had he not told them, in no uncertain terms, that they were to use the floo for every entry and exit? That it was the only secure way of leaving the flat?  
  
Even though they had been out of that horrible place for more than five years, and had made tremendous recoveries… sometimes he wanted to wrap them all up in a sack, throw the sack over his shoulder, and haul them all back to Grimmauld Place, where he could protect them forever. He did truly admire their drive to be independent, and the success they'd achieved at it. But he would never stop worrying about them. Ever.  
  
The door opened and he turned to see Brigita entering on Draco Malfoy's arm. The couple froze, like rabbits caught in the sight of a fox. If we don't move, he won't be able to see us.  
  
Severus looked around and saw the other five girls giving looks ranging from smirks to faux innocence. So this was what they had been trying to hide from him. One of them had a boyfriend. A boyfriend he knew well. And she had never mentioned it to him. None of them had. Why hadn't anyone said anything to him?  
  
Brigita's face flushed and her—gulp—date averted his eyes before kissing— _kissing!_ —her on the cheek and taking his leave.  
  
"Bye, Draco," the other five said in unison, making Brigita's face even redder.  
  
:  
  
"He is good to you?" Severus asked her, arms crossed over his chest.  
  
She nodded. "He is wonderful to me."  
  
"He has no money, you know."  
  
She shrugged. "Neither do I."  
  
"Do you love him?"  
  
She nodded. "Ever since the day he brought me home from that horrible place."  
  
"Does he love you?"  
  
Brigita sighed and averted her eyes. "Yes. I think he does."  
  
"But he has not said so?"  
  
She gave him a shy smile. "How long did you love Mum before you told her?"  
  
That was a fair point.  
  
"If he ever hurts you, you will tell me instantly."  
  
It was a command, and Brigita took it as such. "Of course. You and Leo both." She chuckled. "You could tag-team the curses."  
  
"I'm serious, Brigita."  
  
"So am I."  
  
For a long time, neither Slytherin spoke, until finally Severus narrowed his eyes at her and spoke in an authoritative tone. "And he will not… touch you… before you are married?"  
  
She stood there, frozen, for a moment, before answering. "No," she said. "He won't. He said so himself."  
  
Severus's eyes widened in surprise. "Did he, now?"  
  
She nodded. "He did. He's a good man," she said. "He was always good to me."  
  
Severus smiled. "Yes, he was."  
  
:  
  
"You knew?" Severus exclaimed, confused as to whether he was more shocked or angry.  
  
"Oh, yes, for ages," Hermione said casually, dipping her quill in ink. "We thought it would be best if you didn't know. You can be a bit… over-protective."  
  
"Can you blame me?"  
  
"No. But I can keep our daughter's secrets from you."  
  
"You shouldn't do that, you know."  
  
"When it comes to boys, oh yes, I should."  
  
He tensed as another thought occurred to him. "Do any of the other girls have…" he gulped, "boyfriends?"  
  
Hermione hastily turned her focus to shaking the excess ink from her quill.  
  
\--------  
  
Hermione had not known what to do with herself after the last child left for Hogwarts and their own girls had moved into their own flat.  
  
She and Severus had decided from the beginning that they would not attempt to conceive a child of their own. Practice, yes. But attempt? No. It would not have been fair to the others; it felt like a betrayal.  
  
They also weren't certain they would even be able to have children. Both had been exposed to Cruciatus in the war, Severus perhaps more than just about any other person alive. The also had both been on the receiving end of a multitude of curses and hexes during the war. Most people found themselves infertile after even a fraction of what they'd endured. They decided they'd rather not find out.  
  
Besides, she was already mother to more than twenty. She wasn't a machine.  
  
But what to do with her life now?  
  
The Ministry was unappealing, and Hogwarts was impractical.  
  
The house was far too quiet.  
  
She spent a lot of time writing down her thoughts and experiences as a person who raised and taught war orphans. She conferred with Luna and transcribed Luna's thoughts on the matter. It helped them both remember and clear Hermione's mind while Severus puttered around in the cellar with his potions. He had decided to mass-produce the potions he had created for the children to ward off nightmares in that first year. Their children were not the only ones in need of it. Even though his price was affordable and below-market, it was enough to sustain them financially year-in-year-out. The demand was that high. He had even taught the girls how to make it, in case they were interested in potion-making. None were.  
  
Severus had come upon her writings one day and suggested she seek publication. It was essentially a case study in war trauma. If she kept the names of her "subjects" anonymous, she could publish it and help even more children.  
  
She liked that idea. She liked that idea a lot. Luna enthusiastically agreed.  
  
Writing a book had been both easier and harder than she had imagined. As a lover of the written word, she had assumed it would flow easily, naturally, and that she would be done within weeks. She even bought a laptop for the occasion. On the one hand, she had all the material handy and a strong outline to work with. She knew what she would write when. On the other hand, writer's block would sometimes appear when she tried to transition from one case to the next, or one type of trauma to the next. She wanted it to be professional but not clinical, engaging but not overly-entertaining. It was a serious subject. She wanted to treat it with the respect and gravity it deserved.  
  
She considered herself a co-author, even though Luna never actually wrote anything. She forwarded her notes and provided memories for Hermione to examine in order to get Luna's perceptions, ideas, and thoughts on the subject. Between them, they had a veritable "how-to" manual for psychology and counseling for magical patients.  
  
Such a thing had never been published in Wizarding Britain.  
  
The two rival Wizarding publishing houses engaged in a bidding war for the manuscript. Never before had any witch or wizard written a treatise on mental health problems, let alone with regard to war trauma. And never before had a member of the Golden Trio put quill to parchment to write of her experiences. It would fly off the shelves.  
  
But that wasn't important to Hermione. It was a catharsis for her: sorting out her feelings, recording her experiences, and reflecting on her life for the past several years. Even though it was not about her life per se, it really was a biography. A way of honoring and immortalizing this noble experiment they had devoted their lives to. They had come so far. It would not do to forget the journey. And there was a real chance it would help others.  
  
She couldn't wait to write another.  
  
\-----------  
  
For the first time in his life, Severus Snape waited at Platform 9 ¾ as the Hogwarts Express pulled into the station. Hermione had done it every year since she'd come back into his life over seven years prior. Before then, there usually wasn't anyone to pick up from the last train of the school year. On the rare occasions there was, Glastonbury had insisted on doing it.  
  
But this year was special.  
  
A parade of children made their way to him, fifteen in total, first-years and older. Most were chatting with friends and hugging good-bye for the summer. They each reached him in turn and greeted him in their own way. The Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs insisted on hugging him in public (the Hufflepuffs shyly, the Gryffindors at a run). He grudgingly let them do it, but made sure to make his irritation and disapproval known. They knew better than to take him seriously. The Ravenclaws shook his hand, and the Slytherins kept a respectful distance and give a polite nod. Really, was that so difficult?  
  
The Slytherins outnumbered all the others, but despite what he'd told his wife, Severus was secretly glad to have a bit of variety. Truly, they were their own people, not their parents. None of them shared their surnames anymore. Their futures were not written. Not just yet.  
  
Things were going reasonably well at Hogwarts. With Luna and Neville and Poppy on the staff, they had someone on their side. Many had been able to fly under the radar with regard to their histories, though some had attracted problems with bullying. Problems were usually swiftly dealt with as they would have been with any other children. At least once per year he had to see Minerva about some sort of trouble befalling at least one of them; though he was no longer officially their legal guardian, Minerva treated him as such out of courtesy. Slughorn remained the least protective Head of House, which disappointed Severus immensely but did not surprise him, so his Slytherins tended to have the most problems. But so far, none had been driven out.  
  
Long may it be.  
  
Academically, they were at least passing their classes, though none were doing especially well and none were remotely near the top of their class. He would never have a prefect or a Head Girl or Boy in his house, with one exception. No Quidditch captains or team members either. But most would at least get a few OWLs, which would be enough to give them a place somewhere in the Wizarding world. They would have some options. Not all would make it through NEWT level, but there were opportunities to be had for those with OWLs only. They had friends. It was good enough. Severus had long since decided to take Poppy's advice of years past to accept "good enough." He would never stop pursuing perfection, but he would no longer be disappointed with less. He had learnt to reward best efforts, rather than focus his attention on the imperfections.  
  
They had come so far. How could he possibly be disappointed?  
  
The witch who had accompanied him smiled and welcomed everyone home.  
  
It wasn't just the satisfaction of seeing all children from Grimmauld arriving home from Hogwarts at the same time. It was also seeing one particular child from Grimmauld arrive home from Hogwarts.  
  
Said child (man, really) appeared as the crowd thinned out. He was tall with sandy-blonde hair and grey eyes. He was thin but fit, and walked with the same confidence of his late father. He smiled with his mother's warmth. He walked hand-in-hand with a pretty girl with long, curly red hair who looked at him with utter adoration. He moved his hand to the girl's waist and gave her a kiss when they thought no one was looking. Or just didn't care who saw. Gryffindors never seemed to care if anyone was looking.  
  
Leopold Clairemont. Seventh year. He had finished at Hogwarts and completed his NEWTs. The first of his charges to do so.  
  
Leopold spotted them and led his girlfriend over to the crowd. He first went to Severus's companion, his sister Brigita, and embraced her warmly. Brigita had tears in her eyes as she pulled her brother close. Severus could hear her whisper over and over, "I'm so proud of you." Brigita's engagement ring reflected the light of the sun as she embraced each of her siblings in turn. Leopold introduced his girlfriend to his older sister, and as Ermengarde joined them to regale them all about OWLs, her prefect's badge standing proudly on her chest, Severus couldn't help but feel a swell of pride. The Rosiers had made it. All three of them. He never thought he would see the day.  
  
After extricating himself from his siblings, Leopold made his way over to Severus. The two men, eyes now level with one another, simply stared at each other for a long time.  
  
"Not here," Severus warned quietly.  
  
Leopold broke down and pulled the older man into a strong hug.  
  
"I can't help it," Leopold whispered.  
  
For possibly the first time ever in public, Severus returned an embrace.  
  
He was so damn proud of the boy.  
  
"Well done," he said gruffly, using every ounce of self-control to prevent his emotions from overcoming him in this very public place. "Well done."  
  
Leopold squeezed him. "Thank you," he whispered. He tried to put a lot of things into those two words. Severus understood.  
  
He cleared his throat and mentally counted all of his children. Sixteen in total. No, wait, seventeen. The girl, Leopold's girl, was still with them. She would not be coming back with them today, but Severus had a feeling he would be seeing much of this girl in the coming months. Merlin knew he'd heard enough about her through Hermione, who had owled Leopold every week for his entire seven years: Clara this and Clara that. He wanted to give the boy more time with her, but the younger ones needed to get back. The Potters, Luna, and Longbottom were already there to welcome them all back. The girls had already flooed in from their flat. Brigita had invited Malfoy, though whether he would actually attend such a large gathering remained up in the air. Severus sort of hoped that he would. Xavier Yaxley would come over tonight, as would a couple of the other older boys. Even Weasley and his wife were expected; now that they owned the Leaky, they often brought food to these get-togethers. But they were not bringing food tonight. Molly Weasley had volunteered to cook for everyone.  
  
It wouldn't do to keep them all waiting.  
  
And if leaving now meant that, even sooner, Severus could have them home and all to himself after months without seeing them... well, so much the better.  
  
Over the tops of their heads he saw a teal-headed boy walk off the platform arm-in-arm with his grandmother. Severus briefly met Andromeda's eye and she gave him a small smile and small nod. Teddy Lupin had remained friends with many of the children, particularly those who were fellow Hufflepuffs. It had melted Andromeda's views on the children, just a bit.  
  
"Everyone here?" he asked. At a flurry of nods (and a kiss good-bye between Leopold and his girlfriend), he nodded. Margaret Macnair, always the clingy one, chose that moment to fly to Severus's side and tuck herself under his arm. Checking to make sure that there were enough children around him to shield them from view, he pulled her a bit closer. She always felt safest in his arms. He hoped she always would.  
  
He led her and the others off the platform.  
  
"Let's go home."  
  
 **~Nox~**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Scorpion and the Frog is a real fable. Moral of the story: We cannot change who we are. In this story, my aim was to have none of our main characters change, but rather grow as people while staying true to their true natures. I hope that, in that regard, I have succeeded.
> 
> I have heard time and again that British schools do not have graduation ceremonies, so I'm staying true to that by not having one here. That would be why Severus meets them at King's Cross and congratulates Leo there, rather than at Hogwarts. It was literally his first opportunity to do so.
> 
> Friends, I want to thank you all for making this the most rewarding experience I could have asked for. To all of you-especially those of you who took a chance on a first story by a new author way back at the beginning-I humbly thank you. I know that can be a gamble on this site. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, who provided feedback, who challenged me and made me think. I loved the discussions I had with many of you about the story, the characters, or life in general. I never dreamed that it would be such an interactive experience, and I am so glad that it was. You all helped shape this story in one way or another, and I thank you all immensely.
> 
> I never intended to get "preachy" about the subject matter; this story was written purely for enjoyment and entertainment and to make a very rabid plot bunny go away. I had hoped that it would first and foremost entertain and, if I was lucky, make you think. I know that many of you were touched or otherwise affected by the plight of the girls in the brothel. Sadly, that part of the story is based entirely on fact. I took much of the dynamic from the book "Disposable People" by Kevin Bales, which tells the story of modern-day sex slavery in Thailand. Very little of it was fictionalized. There are real-world girls in this same situation you can help by spreading awareness or supporting organizations that help bring these girls out of such a life. I would encourage you to do so, if you're so inclined.
> 
> A P.S. to stave off many of the comments I got when I first posted this story: it simply would not have added anything to the story for Severus and Hermione to have a baby. Not only that, I think it would have undermined the entire point of it.
> 
> Thank you again for all your reviews, words of encouragement, questions, and comments. It has made this an amazing process :

**Author's Note:**

> I realize that in canon, Evan Rosier is dead, but I forgot that until I was well into the story by the time I realized that, so we'll call this a Rosier-AU.


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